On the Mend
by Myriad-13
Summary: Post 6.08. A cafe owner from Virginia. Detective Don Flack. These two unlikely people have something in common: they have both lost people they have loved to murderers. After she moves into the diner where Jessica Angell was shot, can Don complete the last stage of healing? Don Flack/OC, Dantana, other CSI NY cast members. Rated M for language. Now complete with a sequel.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Hi all! This is going to be my first multi-chapter fic for CSI NY. This is going to be Don/OC centric, but please don't let that put you off. This is more than a story about Don Flack hooking up with some hot chick. I intend for there to be a relationship build up, and a character that is awesome as a person, but is in no way perfect. There will be plot, there will be drama, and for Flack, he learns that loosing Jessica Angell does not make him half the man he used to be. As my OC helps him realise, it makes him a man who has loved and lost, and been strong enough to get through it and move forward.

So without further ado, let me introduce my fic.

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set five months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Prologue **

* * *

_Now I can't walk, I can't talk anymore  
Since you walked out the door  
And now I'm stuck living out that night again_

_...I'm not falling apart _

**Maroon 5 – Not Falling Apart**

* * *

**Don Flack POV**

* * *

I can't believe it.

I can't...I really can't.

No. I change my mind. I can believe it. Old man Sturge who owns the place has been looking for some chump to come and be his new renter ever since the...the shooting. The cheapskate slime ball. But no one this side of Manhattan hasn't dared to come near the place ever since...

So why now? It's been eight months.

Eight months since my heart was brutally ripped out of my chest and buried with Jessica Angell's cold body. My first true love died in that building. Everyone knew of her death, her murder, knew that they shouldn't even try to open that place up again.

I can almost feel my blood boil as I watch contractors clearing out the remains of the old greasy spoon diner. I want to scream at them as they take some of the reminder of Jess and dump it in a portable dumpster. I don't want a new, pretty place going in there. I want that reminder of Jess to stay.

The shrink at the department would probably look disapprovingly me right now and tell me I'm irrational, and that holding on to 'petty' things like wanting the grounds where she died to be preserved in memory to the wonderful detective that entered my life wouldn't be helpful to the healing process.

Fuck that.

I'm bitter. I know it. Mac knows it. Stella knows it. The rest of the CSI team knows it. Even my old man tries to comfort me. It doesn't really work, but knowing that they all care for me is better than what most have in their life. Too many years on the job as a detective have taught me to never take things for granted. So I make sure I let each and every person know how much their support matters. Even that little lab tech, Adam Ross, tried to help me.

Well none of them could help with this now.

I sigh and anger wells up inside of me. I know I shouldn't be pissed off. Sturge needs someone to go in there who doesn't believe the place is jinxed after the death of a cop.

But I won't sit here and watch peacefully. I intend to let the new proprietor know _exactly _what I think of them even daring to replace everything in there, erasing any history whatsoever of what happens.

For Jess, I'll try and see that the place is shut down.

Permanently.

* * *

**A/N: **…Okay, I'm just going to lay it out there. I like reviews. And I appreciate them. Just so you know.

Don't worry! You'll see the OC in the next chapter.


	2. First Impressions

**A/N: Thank you to the following that reviewed: Leslie Emm, Smuffly, and babygurl1944. I wasn't expecting that much response, so thank you all so much. Enjoy this one :D**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 1 – First Impression**

* * *

_Yeah, I forget about the consequences  
For a minute there I lose my senses  
And in the heat of the moment my mouth starts going  
The words start flowing, oh_

**Jessie J – Nobody's Perfect**

* * *

Savannah Cormier huffed and tucked a stray strand of dark curly hair back behind her ear. She would really need to buy some bobby pins on the way back to her tiny apartment. On top of the other million things she had to get done by the end of the week.

She was still getting used to the big city, with everyone on top of each other and always busy.

It was a week since she had opened up her new cafe, the Comfort Cafe, and she had to admit, the benefit of opening up in the heart of NYC was that, if you had good food, you were always fairly steady as far as customers went. Although some of those customers had seemed a little wary entering her premises, she soothed them over with her more southern style charm and delicious dishes.

It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon, and she was counting out the money in the till while her cousin, Jacks – short for Jacqueline – finished cleaning up the kitchen.

For Savannah and her burgeoning cafe, it had been a good take for the day. She had enough to pay the surprisingly low rent for the place, her employees, and for her produce. Anything she collected tomorrow and Sunday morning was just a bonus.

"Hey Anna, I'm just about done here. Ya comin' over for dinner tonight?" Jacks called from the back.

Savannah grinned at her nickname before answering, "Yeah. It'll be good not to cook for once after the haul I had to do today. Who knew I'd sell out of that shrimp gumbo so quick, huh?"

"Mama told ya."

"True. Aunt Emilie was spot on," replied Savannah, watching as her cousin came out front.

She shared a few traits with her cousin. The long chocolate brown hair that fell in thick, loose spirals almost to their shoulder blades, the dimpled cheeks and laughing eyes. But there the similarities ended. Jacks was darker skinned and had brown eyes in comparison to Savannah's fair skin and curious grey-green eyes. Where Jacks was short and slim, her cousin was tall and curvy.

"Oooh Anna, there's tall, dark, and handsome brooding outside the door again," Jacks squealed excitedly.

Rolling her eyes, the taller woman turned her attention to the store front, her lips turning down in a frown. The sign on the front read 'closed' but there was that man standing outside, his eyes intense on her as he looked in.

Savannah had seen him every afternoon since she opened, and she was getting sick of the routine. She didn't get the vibe that the man was menacing or intended her harm. It was more like he hated the fact that she occupied the building. While what Jacks had said was true – he was tall, dark-haired, and handsome – Savannah was getting frustrated by the late afternoon visits.

"Chill, Anna," chuckled Jacks. "He's probably just trying to work up the nerve to ask you out or something."

"I doubt it," replied Savannah, her eyes narrowing as the man canted his head to the side, as if trying to read her lips.

When his lips pursed, Savannah let out an aggravated sigh. That was it. She was an adult, he was an adult. She was going to find out just _exactly_ what his problem was. Shutting the till drawer with a firm snap, she marched over to the cafe door and yanked it open, one hand gesturing for the tall stranger to come inside. His expression flickered to one of surprise before smoothing out into blankness once more.

As he stepped in, Savannah spared no time with small talk and asked firmly, "Who are you, and why are you always hovering outside _my _front door?"

As the man sat, he replied in a smooth, deep voice that was completely unlike anything she was expecting, "Detective Don Flack. NYPD. As for me outside your front door, I've got a question for you."

"Question?"

"Yeah. How can you just set up here with no remorse?"

Savannah saw the flash of pain in his deep blue eyes, but his tone made her disregard it. "It was a good spot with cheap rent. People have gone into business for less. Why does it interest you?" she asked defensively.

Flack's smile was bitter. "So you just don't care?"

Jacks was watching the exchange intently, so Savannah turned to her and said, "Jacks, go out back. I'll be fine with the detective."

Her cousin looked wary, but she left.

Turning back to the detective sitting before her, Savannah stated, "I have no idea as to what you're referring to Detective. I have legally obtained the use of these premises and all my health and safety checks have been completed. I have worked hard to open up this cafe. I don't presume to know anything about what came before me."

Flack had enough with this woman's dumb act, her expressive grey-green eyes attempting to look innocent and defiant. He scoffed at her, standing angrily, getting into her personal space. A little niggling voice told him he could be given suspension for his behaviour, but there was _nothing_ left of the place Jess had died in. Nothing left for him to remember her by except by her possessions.

"Yeah, right. Everyone on the island of Manhattan knows _exactly_ what happened here. A cop died here. And then you come in and act like nothing happened here. Like no one lost their life. Like everything's hunky-dory. You must be a special brand of bitch to lie to my face," he spat, the vitriol that had been brewing since he saw the cafe open finally being released on the woman before him. "You should just leave. Sturge can find some other renter. Someone who cares about the history of this place."

"But-"

"You mark my words, I'm going to get this place shut down. I've got some friends in the health department, if one of them even finds traces of ants in your kitchen, I'll get you out before you can say 'NYPD,'" Flack threatened lowly.

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me."

He sat back down, self-satisfied.

Or so he thought.

Savannah stared at the Detective in disbelief. "I can't believe they call _you_ an officer. You're more like a bully," she spat, her own anger bubbling up. How dare this man waltz in here and pretend that he knew her? She knew nothing of this death he mentioned. It pissed her off that he accused her of being…all that. "Now it's your turn to shut up."

When Flack opened his mouth, she stepped forward angrily and slapped a hand over his mouth. "I mean it. I've heard you. Now hear _me_. I am not a bitch. My name is Savannah Patia Cormier. I moved up from Hampton, Virginia a month and a half ago. I don't know anything about this place other than it used to be a diner and that the rent was cheap. My Aunt Emilie told me of the place's potential as a cafe. I didn't know about this death. And if I did, I would have been more sensitive to the issue."

"Are you kidding me? How could you not know? It's been the talk of the town," Flack exclaimed behind the hand covering his mouth.

"I didn't know, I swear to you," Savannah said exasperatedly.

Flack had to admit it. This Cormier woman had spunk to stand up to him when he was intentionally being intimidating. She was just a tad taller than…than Jess. The thought of his lost love made him drop his eyes in shame. Guilt flooded him. She was right. He shouldn't have acted like this. He was being a bully because of his rare fit of impulsiveness.

Savannah saw the change in emotions, sensing his ire fade when his eyes weren't staring lasers into hers. She carefully took her hand away from his mouth. Gently, she asked, "Whoever died here…they meant a lot to you didn't they?"

Instantly, the defensiveness returned. "What makes you think that?"

This time, Savannah ignored the biting tone. "You wouldn't try to get me out of here if it was just any person. From what I heard, death is a daily certainty in New York."

Flack felt the situation slip out of the control he wanted. He abruptly stood, almost knocking the cafe owner over in his haste. "I apologise for my behaviour Ms. Cormier. I'll…I'll just be going now."

Before Savannah could even move, he was gone, out the door before she could even breathe.

It had been so abrupt and emotion packed. If she hadn't of experienced it, Savannah would have sworn it never happened.

Slowly sitting down in the chair the detective had vacated, Savannah analysed his behaviour, troubled. She had a habit of doing that with people. She tried to solve their problems – a result of her upbringing. But something about this man, Don Flack, set little warnings off in her head. He looked like he needed a friend. Someone who understood. It made her heart ache to think that someone had been killed here, in her soothing cafe.

Jacks came back to the front, concern etched in her face. "You all right chere?"

"I'm fine. I'm not so sure about the detective," Savannah replied. Her eyes darted to her cousin. "Is what he said true, Jacks? That a cop died here?"

Jacks nodded. "Yep. I forgot all about it until that cop there started talkin' about it. About eight months ago it happened. The cop was a young lady detective that got shot. She couldn't recover in hospital, it had been too late."

"Are you sure you forgot or did you and Aunt Emilie just carefully decide not to mention it to me?"

Jacks chuckled remorsefully. "Can't pull one over on you, can I cuz?"

"No," replied Savannah, sighing and slumping in her seat. "But I understand now why you didn't tell me."

"Because you never would have chosen this place, Anna. But it's right for you. I could feel it when you first asked me to look for spots to start this place. It was a vision I wanted to help you with, and regardless of what happened here all those months ago, I still think that this, here, in NYC, is the place for you to be," Jacks said quietly.

Savannah smirked. "When did you get so wise?"

"Ach! You make me sound so old. I'm only 31!"

"And two years _older _than me," teased the cafe owner, standing and smoothing down the apron over her jeans. "Come on. Let's get out of here. Aunt Emilie's cooking is something not to be missed."

"True that."

* * *

**A/N: **So you all got your first glimpse of Savannah. Don't worry, it's not going to be instant friendship between these two. I am attempting to create tension :D


	3. Mac Investigates

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed! Smuffly, Noaccountperson (anon), Leslie Emm, and bjq, you guys all rock. It's tricky to get an OC right, so I'm glad you seem to like her so far. On with the show.**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 2 – Mac Investigates**

* * *

_And now it's clear to me  
That everything you see  
Ain't always what it seems_

_~/~_

_God knows that I tried  
Seeing the bright side_

**Katy Perry – Wide Awake**

* * *

It was Sunday morning when Mac Taylor sighed and dropped the case file he was working on back onto his desk. He had burned the candle at both ends again and hadn't been back to his apartment since Friday night. The murder of a nurse in the alley behind the hospital had proven to be more complicated than first thought, and it had kept the head of the Crime Lab curious to the point where it had exhausted him.

At least Flack had calmed down after coming to him on Friday night, looking pained and ashamed.

He hadn't gotten most of the details, but from what Mac had understood, a new cafe had opened up where Detective Angell had been shot and Don had gone to run the owner out of town. Only it hadn't gone the way Flack had wanted it to.

Curious about who was brave enough to keep their cool when the aggravated Flack was around, Mac grabbed his coat, signed off, and headed down the elevator to the street.

The ex-Marine eschewed a cab for walking, knowing it would keep him awake if the cool air didn't.

When he arrived at the new cafe, Mac had to marvel at the turnaround. Gone was the Tillary Diner. This place looked clean and cosy from the outside. The sign above the place was simple and merely stated 'Comfort Cafe.' Nothing ostentatious. He slowed his steps to observe the clientele as he entered. It was half full and the food looked good.

Stepping in further, Mac knew instinctually that the person who began this place was not native to New York.

The dead giveaway was the colours.

The walls were heavy cream with one burnt orange accent wall. All around, there was colour. Bold red coffee machine, yellow mugs, white chairs surrounding simple dark blue tables.

And the smells!

Mac was pleasantly surprised. The owners before now hadn't cared about the less than appetizing smell of old fried oil, but now the air was filled with herbs and spices. He was sure of basil and parsley, but there was a hint of chilli and something sweeter. Paprika? As he approached the counter to get a menu he noticed pots of herbs lined up on a bench behind it.

The woman at the till looked up and smiled at him. "Hi there. Looking for a menu?"

"Please."

As she gave him one, Mac took the chance to observe the woman. Looked about 30, dark wavy/curly hair, eyes that reminded him a little of Stella's, a curious blend of grey and green. She seemed friendly enough. He then paid attention to the menu and was surprised at the mix of everyday ordinary food and the extraordinary. "Gumbo? Breakfast Jambalaya?" he mused aloud.

The woman grinned wider. "Yeah, I've heard that reaction. But I promise you it's good wholesome food like your own mama made it."

Mac chuckled, instantly taken in by her warm tone. "What do you recommend?"

The woman looked at him appraisingly. "I'm guessing by the rumpled clothes that you've been too long at work and are headin' home. So you don't want anything too heavy that'll bog you down. I think a black coffee and the jambalaya with a little savoury mince to keep your strength up."

Mac was impressed. This woman had him pegged. "You always do that to new customers?"

"Just the ones who look like they need a little TLC," replied the merry eyed woman. "I'm the owner. Savannah Cormier, but if Savannah is too much of a mouthful, Anna will do," she said, holding out her hand. Mac took it and shook. Her grip was firm, sure.

"Mac Taylor," he replied. As he moved his hand back, Savannah glimpsed his police badge and she instantly felt compassion for the man before her. Looked like he had a hard shift.

"How much do I owe you?" asked Mac.

"$7.50," she replied instantly.

Mac frowned and his eyes flicked over the menu. "Jambalaya is $12 alone. Your math is way off."

"It's discount. I saw your badge. Any NYPD officers get discount from me," Savannah announced.

"What makes us so special?" asked the detective, a little suspicious.

Savannah looked the tiniest bit hesitant before she answered, "I know how hard your jobs are. I know the sacrifices you make. In a big city like this where there is no rest, then discount is the least I can do."

Mac sensed there was something else in the reasoning, but as far as he could tell, Anna had been truthful. He nodded, took a table number and headed to the small table closest to the kitchen to do one of his favourite activities.

Observation.

There was something about Anna that had affected Don.

So he watched her.

When she wasn't greeting customers and serving them at the register, he could hear her humming in the kitchen, helping to cook and talking to what sounded like two kitchen hands. She also had a commanding presence in the main body of the cafe, helping the two other waitresses with their orders, smoothing out any problems and constantly checking with customers about the quality of service and food. When she brought him the coffee, she had winked at him before bustling off to a booth and greeting the customers like old friends.

She treated most people like that, Mac saw. It was like it was her goal to make everyone to feel at home here.

When there was a break in the serving, Savannah grabbed Mac's breakfast off the kitchen counter and brought it out to him. "Hot jambalaya!" she announced cheerfully.

"You always this happy?" Mac asked, amused as he took in the contents of the plate.

"I try to be, although I'm better in the morning than in the afternoon. It's better to be happy than let actions of the past dictate the present. At least, not too much."

Mac's head snapped up at the comment, but Anna had gone again, off to serve another customer. He wondered if she was aware of the information she had just given him. Obviously something had happened in her past. Some great event. But it wasn't evident in her actions. She simply seemed like a cheerful cafe owner.

He then devoted all his attention to his food, hoping it was as good as Savannah said it was.

The rice was filled with onion, corn, carrot, celery, tomato, and bits of scrambled eggs and bacon. From the smell, Mac guessed a touch of cumin, saffron, and mint. The savoury beef looked good too. Taking a bite, Mac's eyebrows rose. It was far better than he imagined. Savannah hadn't been kidding when she said homemade. And it _was_ light and wholesome.

He was scraping the plate for his last bite when Savannah swung past again, sitting opposite him. "How was it Detective Taylor?"

"After that good of a breakfast, you can call me Mac."

"Okay Mac. So…hit the spot?" she asked with a smile.

"It did. You are talented. I haven't had southern food that good for a long time," Mac said, leaning back in his chair. All of his instincts told him that she was genuine, and he felt comfortable with her. "Your accent. Not quite southern is it?"

"Why thank you. It's all thanks to my mama. She taught me how to cook and passed on some of her Cajun habits and accent. I'm half Cajun." Savannah replied. She was pleased that he had enjoyed her food. She had the utmost respect for good policemen and women and she felt like her food was the least she could do to bring some comfort. A thought occurred to her. Perhaps he knew Detective Flack?

"I was wondering, Mac, if you could answer a few questions for me? I'm new to the city and what better person to ask than a detective?" she asked.

Mac shrugged. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

Savannah bit her lip before charging ahead. "What happened in this place before I came to NYC? I had…someone very upset confront me about it."

The detective knew instantly who she was talking about and decided to fill in the blanks without giving away too much. "About eight months ago a detective, Jessica Angell, was protecting a witness in this old diner, then called the Tillary Diner. She was shot when kidnappers came to take the witness. She didn't survive it." Mac paused in memory of Don's face, broken and lost over Angell. "She meant a lot to a lot of people. She was a good detective."

"A friend of yours?"

"In a way," answered Mac. "I run the NY Crime Lab. I worked with her on a lot of cases. She was smart, dedicated. Her loss hit the department hard."

Savannah nodded thoughtfully, understanding dawning. Now she could understand why police passing by her cafe seemed to purposely avoid it. "Mac…do you happen to know a Don Flack? Tall, dark hair, blue eyes?"

"I do. He's a friend of mine."

Sensing she was about to tread on a delicate subject, she asked again, "Is he a good cop? Doesn't try to…ah…intimidate people beyond the scope of his job?"

Mac's gaze sharpened. "Not that I know of. He's one of the best. Why?"

Savannah got a nervous look on her face. "Well, it's probably nothing…"

"No, tell me," demanded Mac.

Sighing, Savannah explained. "He came in here Friday afternoon. Agitated. He'd been hanging around every day since I opened and I finally confronted him about it. He accused me of being a…less nice person and that I didn't care. Threatened to shut me down."

"And?" pressed Mac.

"I let him have it. I told him not to judge me or this place and that I didn't know what happened here. I told him he was a bully. And then he seemed to deflate," replied the dark haired woman, caught in the memory. "I could sense then that this was personal. It wasn't about me. It was about this place. And no one would tell me why. Until you did just now."

All the pieces clicked and Mac pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Don would act like that. He was still not quite over Angell's death – not that Mac expected him to be. "Well I can assure you he's not usually like that."

"I don't hold it against him," Savannah hastened to assure. "Everyone's entitled to some down days."

Mac studied Savannah. "Be that as it may, Anna, he should have kept a cool head."

A hand came to touch his arm. "Don't be hard on him. I know what it's like to lose someone so unfairly."

"Really?" the detective asked, interested. He stored that information away as well. It could be useful.

There was a barely noticeable freeze before a smile was plastered on Savannah's face. "That's information I'm not going to give up freely detective. You'd have to earn it."

Mac smirked. Good avoidance tactic. "Fine. How can I start?"

The smile was more heartfelt as Savannah replied, "You can start by dragging Detective Flack back here so I can put on a spread for you two – some good old hospitality. You can even bring your team, whoever they are. I want a do over. I don't want my fresh start in this city to be marred by a bad first impression. My treat, I promise. You just let me know the day and time."

"You got it," said Mac, holding out his hand. Savannah shook it, sealing the deal.

"Anna! We've got a problem with the cornbread!" a waitress called.

Savannah shook her head in amusement. "She's probably grabbed an uncooked batch. Don't be a stranger Mac!"

As Anna walked away from him to sort out her food, Mac felt more curious than ever. Judging from the little hints she had dropped, this new cafe owner could be kindred spirits with Don. Outwardly, she was gregarious and charming, but there was something that fuelled it. He resolved to get Flack back here as soon as he could. If he felt comfortable here, maybe it would bring some comfort for Don too.

* * *

**A/N: It is SO hard to write Mac, to get him serious while also making him approachable. **

**Reviews, as always, are an awesome thing to get. I would really treasure them. Tell me how I'm going with Savannah. I hope she's likable. Tell me if she's too boring or annoying, and I'll fix it. **


	4. Clean Slate

**A/N; Thank you so much to smuffly, babygurl1944, bjq, no accounter, and moxicity **for providing such awesome feedback about last chapter. It really helped, and it made me tweak a few things in this chapter. You guys are fantastic.

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 3 – Clean Slate**

* * *

_Every day is an open page  
A brand new start, a fresh clean slate given to me  
Now it's up to me find my best and lose my worst  
I try to heal the things I hurt but I don't mean to_

**Love and Theft – World Wide Open**

* * *

"No."

"I wasn't asking Don."

"I still say hell no."

Mac sighed and cursed his friends stubbornness. "You owe it to her to go there and start anew. There is nothing wrong with that cafe or the person who runs it."

"You think I don't know that? I did a basic search on this Savannah Cormier after you asked me the _first_ time to go to lunch there. The only thing I found of note was that her father was a cop," Flack said. His jaw was tight with tension, but Mac knew that he was close to agreeing.

"Don. She is new to the city. She couldn't have possibly known," Mac said in a tone that indicated he was rapidly losing patience.

"I realise that _now_. I've already threatened to put her out of business and I feel like a jerk after what happened. That and I just don't…I don't think I'll be able to go back inside that place and feel comfortable after all that happened. Don't make me do this Mac. I'm asking you as a friend," Flack pleaded softly.

Mac shook his head sadly. "It is as a friend that I have to help you confront the difficult things in life. And Anna assures me that she doesn't hold your emotional state against you. She's offered to make us lunch or dinner, whenever we want it with whoever we want to bring."

Don stared ahead, mulling it over deeply. With a sigh, he mumbled, "I don't know Mac."

"Then I'm making the decision for you. Tomorrow at 6pm. I know we both get off shift then," the CSI said firmly.

"I still can't understand why you are so insistent. It's not like you."

Mac heard the underlying question in the statement, and so he leaned forward in his office chair, his eyes holding the other detective's. "I was skeptical of her at first, but she's…unique. She was kind to me when I first went there. She's got a good soul, I can see it."

"That's not the whole story, is it Mac?" Flack questioned.

With a quick smile, Mac replied, "No, it's not. Three days ago I took Reed there. He wasn't looking comfortable, but when she came by to speak to us, the change in his demeanour was incredible. When she asked him what his favourite food was, Reed said it wasn't on the menu. Anna said she'd do whatever he wanted even if it meant she had to leave the shop for ingredients. Reed wanted chicken schnitzel with mashed potatoes, saying it was his favourite as a kid." Mac paused to gauge Flack's attention. "And then she went out back and made it all from scratch. It took her a little longer, but she did it. Just to make him happy."

"But why?" asked Don, unwillingly intrigued.

"I asked her just that," continued the older man, "and she replied that if she can make every person's day just a little better, even if it means having to put in that extra effort, then she'll do it. She says that a smile costs nothing, but she'll work for it all the same."

Flack absorbed the information silently as Mac went on in a softer tone.

"You don't meet people like that just any day. People who are genuine. People who have kindness at the base of their souls. And you especially don't meet them in the jobs that we do."

Flack knew then that Mac had never intended to let up until he went back to the cafe. Standing up, he straightened his tie just to prolong the silence. His friend watched him with eagle eyes. Finally, he muttered, "I don't want to go."

"But you owe it-"

"I know, I know, I know," Don placated, cutting the other man off. "I don't want to. But I'll do it."

"And that's all I ask Don. One more try," Mac assured calmly.

* * *

**Savannah POV**

I'm not usually the kind of woman that's prone to a giddy excitement. I can get excited. I can get giddy. But never both at the same time.

Mac's call had sent me into a tizzy. I only had one day to get everything ready to do my speciality dishes. I could have done something simple and easy like pasta or steak. But I really wanted to blow him and Detective Flack away with my culinary skills.

Now it's only an hour away until they're coming in for dinner.

I'm not usually like this either. I treat everyone the best I can, but never has a person gripped so suddenly and intensely like Detective Flack has. I feel a pull to him, and I can't help but want to know him better. Not to mention he's one of the most handsome men I've ever seen. Those eyes… swoon worthy.

Quickly checking on the etouffee I hear footsteps enter the kitchen.

"The closed sign is up and everything is clean. All that's left is the till. We felt busier than we were last week," Jacks observed to me. I grinned at her in thanks. She quickly took a look inside the pot of rice I was stirring. "Hope that tall dark and moody can taste the apology in your food," she teases.

"That's the point," I reply.

She laughs and shakes her head in that way when she thinks I'm fighting a losing battle. "Good luck."

"See you tomorrow Jacks."

My cousin leaves me, and once I hear the door close, I can't help but sing. There's a beautiful song going around called 'People help the People' that's been trapped in my head for the past few days, but when I'm working I can rarely sing. Either I'm too busy or it's inappropriate to do so. Singing, I find, helps the time to pass along more pleasantly.

I carefully finish off the rest of the preparations when I hear the door open.

"Anna?" Mac calls.

"In the kitchen," I say loudly. "The middle booth is all set for you."

As I plate up the first course I can hear their voices. After his constant patronage for the past week and a half, I can pick out Mac's voice easily. The other is lower and even from in here I can hear Detective Flack is tense. Again, there's that little pang in me that has me wanting to take that tension all away.

My food hasn't failed me yet, and I'm not about start now.

* * *

**Don POV**

I dragged my heels all day, even burying myself in paperwork just to get the thought of coming back here out of my head.

Either I was too angry at the time or my observance skills were seriously low on the day I came in here and acted like a jerk, but the interior is…well, nothing like the old place.

And that, I think, is why I can stomach getting past the front door.

There was colour everywhere, none of it muted or neutral. It was proud and clean and so not 'New York.' Mac was smiling, something that surprised me. It's that little not quite smirk, not quite grin he only wears when he's content. This cafe must have endeared itself to my usually taciturn friend.

"Anna?" he calls.

I instantly recognise her voice when she calls back, "The kitchen. The middle booth is all set for you."

He leads me to a booth that's been set and as we slide in my eyes can't help but stray to the spot where Jess lay after the shooting. In my mind, I can still see the blood pool, see her life draining from her slim frame.

"Don," Mac said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I turn to him, struggling not to let the pain take over me.

"Don't look there. It won't help. It'll just rub the wound raw once more."

"Isn't that what we're doing just by _being_ here?" My tone is snarky and annoyed and I don't care. Mac got me here. That's a feat in itself. He's looking at me sternly now in that way that tells me if I push it he's gonna be real pissed off with me. Probably as much as he was that time at Terrence's place.

I hear noise coming from the kitchen area and I turn and see Ms. Cormier (I'm not going to even think of calling her by her name until she asks me to) carrying out two plates, a small smile on her face.

"I hope you guys are hungry because here's first course. Smoked vegetable crepe with marinated cucumber on the side," she said brightly, placing the plates down in front of us. "Give a yell when you're ready for the next one. I'm going to get some water and count the till if you need me."

She turned away without acknowledging either of us. I was about to protest when Mac shook his head and murmured, "She's like that. She doesn't hover while you're eating."

Oh. Right. I should be grateful for that. I look down at the dish and say, "It's not exactly a pizza, but…"

Mac rolled his eyes at me. "You and Danny are scarily alike. Neither are you are particularly adventurous with their food."

"Guess he won't like the freshly caught Alligator then," Ms. Cormier piped up as she set glasses of water in front of us.

"Alligator?" I blurt out in shock. I'm half out of my seat when she laughs and I realise she's joking.

"Easy cowboy. My alligator wrestling days are long gone. But their meat is very tasty," she says to me, and in that moment I can actually see what Mac's been trying to tell me all along. She's comfortable enough with herself as a person to joke around…and _really_ doesn't hold my asshole act against me. As she turns away again, I can see Mac's little smirk of self-satisfaction.

"Oh shut up," I mumble.

He merely attempts to look innocent before shovelling the food in his mouth.

I'm still reluctant. Half of my diet is steak, the other half is pizza, hot dogs, and beer. Crepes? Well, Jess made them once, but they were lemon flavoured. I tentatively carve into the meal and take a bite. I was half expecting to spit it out in disgust or make some quip about this crepe being crap. But-

God. This is so good.

How in the _hell_ did she manage to do that? I poke around the crepe with the knife and see the crepe has red capsicum, onion, and eggplant in addition to the sauce. And nothing else. How does something so good come out of something so simple?

"Good?" Mac asks me.

"Okay, now I can see why you were raving about her food," I admit, feeling more of an ass than ever for my actions two weeks ago.

"See what happens when you give things a chance?"

I merely give my friend a look that clearly tells him to stop gloating, but his eyes are twinkling with that 'I told you so' mischievousness. "Been listening to Abba again Mac?"

"Ha-ha," he deadpans.

We finish the rest of the entree in silence, simply because I'm enjoying this way too much. There is a radio softly playing in the background, accompanied by the clink-clink of coins as Ms. Cormier counts her take for the day. It's soothing. Somehow. It's cooling the hot shame and anxiety I carefully hid from Mac as we came here.

Pushing away my plate, I clear my throat uncertainly to get her attention. A stray curl bounces in front of her face as she looks up.

"Next round coming up," she announces before I can speak, and she disappears behind the kitchen wall.

"I'm actually impressed. You ate the whole thing," Mac said, getting up to get a paper from the counter, spreading it out on the table.

"It was delicious."

"I know. But I half expected you to not eat it out of spite," he replied.

I was going to protest that he didn't know me that well, but I caught myself. He was probably right. When I'm upset, I do tend to get a little spiteful.

'_Spiteful? Ha! You murdered a man over what happened to Jess.'_

Damn that little voice in the back of my conscience. The one that haunts me in my nightmares.

My thoughts break off when I can smell something that makes my mouth water. Ms. Cormier is coming back with two even bigger plates of steaming food. As she swapped the dirty plates for the fresh ones full of food, I swear my eyes popped out. "What kind of culinary school did you go to? The school of stuffed guests?"

There it is again. That full laugh.

"My mama. I never went to culinary school. A lot of it was my mama, a lot was experimentation. But making crawfish etouffee has always been a great challenge for me," she replies with an easy charm. "And don't worry, I won't be offended if you don't eat the whole thing. I usually make the plates too big anyway."

"Thanks Anna," Mac says warmly, patting her hand.

This time I eagerly dig in. I don't hesitate and I'm rewarded with the burst of flavour from the seafood stew.

Looking at Mac, I see him eating with his eyes closed, savouring it.

"We are so bringing the rest of the team here," I say. I'm still disbelieving that I judged this place so wrong.

"I don't know, I was having fun keeping it a secret. Danny's probably going to want to try everything on that menu of hers," Mac agreed.

I chuckle at that. Messer has always been a bottomless pit and it looks like Lucy's exactly the same. "You know, I didn't even know there was such a dish like this until that case where the Louisiana tourist got trampled by a drunk cart driver's horse."

"I knew. There was a great restaurant Claire and I used to go to in Chicago. It was called 'Southern Lovin'. I thought they were good, but this is better."

Mac must be feeling really content tonight to reveal personal information. It's probably a combination of the food and the fact they had wrapped up two big cases just before end of shift that got him to lower his guard. The guy rarely takes a day, so it's good to see him relaxed. "Hey Mac," I murmur.

"Yeah?"

Blowing out a breath I confess, "I'm glad you dragged me back. Thanks."

"No problem," he replies.

Turning to the side, I can see the raven hair of Ms. Cormier partially hiding her face as she reads a magazine, snacking on her own bowl of etouffee. Her hair is curly and free and it suits her. Remorse hits me for treating her like shit. Before I lose my nerve, I walk over to her. She senses me and locks eyes with me. "Hey. Enjoying it?" she asks. There's no accusation, no expectation. Nothing but openness and hidden tenacity.

"Yeah, it's really good. Listen, I was wondering-"

"Let's do this in the kitchen," she interrupts me and beckons for me to follow. Caught unawares by her forwardness, I follow.

I look around and see that everything is clean. The stainless steel bench tops gleam in the low light of the room and there's no crumbs or vermin in sight.

She leans against a counter and looks at me expectantly.

With a sigh, I decide to get it over with. "I'm sorry. I was a complete ass to you when we first met."

"You were," she agrees. She then shrugs. "It's okay."

I shoot her a pained expression. "No, it's not. I've been going through a tough time, but I shouldn't blame it on you."

"It's fine."

"How can you-"

I'm surprised once again by her boldness when she presses a finger against my lips. "I said it's fine and I can forgive you for it. You coming here and paying me the biggest compliment by eating everything I gave you is enough," she said firmly. Her eyes on mine, fierce and determined.

As she lifts her finger away, she scrutinises my face and I wonder if I've got some stray sauce on my chin or something.

"Don't hold onto the guilt. And I'm sorry too for reacting the way I did. I just…went off." She then chuckles and says, "How about we start all over."

"Sounds good to me," I agree. I put out a hand. "Don Flack. It's a pleasure to met you."

Her grip is strong and confident as she takes my hand. "Savannah Cormier. Although you can call me Anna if you like."

"There has to be something else I can do to make it up to you," I offer, my inner conflict slipping out.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. I knew then and there that a look like that could only mean trouble. "Okay. If you come in at least twice a week and become my 'guinea pig' for new dishes then we'll see about working…or should I say eating off that guilt you're determined to carry around with you."

"Ouch, made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

* * *

Meanwhile, just outside the kitchen door, an eavesdropping Mac Taylor indulged himself in Adam-like childishness and fist pumped the air.

* * *

**A/N: Don's POV is ridiculously hard. I really need to up the smart comments he comes up with, but I think for this chapter I couldn't really fit them in.**

**As usual, I hoped you all liked it. Reviews are always appreciated. **


	5. Thinking Twice

**A/N: Thank you so much to Smuffly, Moxicity, Forest Angel, No accounter, and Leslie Emm for your wonderful reviews. Your feedback continues to be informative and helpful and all around boosting. Also, thank you to those that have favourites and followed the fic. It's amazing.**

**Just letting you know that the next chapter might be a little longer in coming due to university commitments. I had trouble with this chapter. I wasn't sure if it was too soon in the story to introduce this, but in the end, I said 'I can't drag out the 'getting to know you' too long, so I did speed it up a little. Let me know how you found it. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 4 – Thinking Twice**

* * *

_I'm in pieces of what might have been  
Every night I'm spending sleepless  
Smoking cigarettes till 3 AM in an empty bed  
And I can't get you out of my head_

**Shannon Noll – In Pieces**

* * *

As much as he resisted his curiosity and his promise, Don felt himself compelled to visit the Comfort Cafe at least once every second day. The first time he had visited after he had re-introduced himself, he had felt unsure without a friend to guide him. But as soon as he had stepped in, Savannah had swept past him, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the small table near the kitchen doors.

"Sit. Stay," she had ordered, before leaving him to stare after her.

She had returned five minutes later, a bowl of steaming soup in her hand. "I'm trying something new. Chicken and sweet corn soup. Give it a go and catch up with me later, I have orders to fill."

So there he had sat, unbelieving. He was used to direct women. But never ones as unassuming of what he was to them. Reluctant to disappoint Savannah, he had eaten the soup and gave it a glowing report when Savannah found a minute to drop by his table.

"It's great. It really is. But I'm curious," he said. "You're southern…isn't this more of an Asian thing?"

Savannah had just shrugged. "I liked the look of the recipe. Besides, life would get boring if I made the exact same food day in day out. It's the fun part about being my own boss."

Flack nodded his head to the side. "Fair enough."

And so it began.

For three weeks since then, whenever Flack made the effort to get there, Savannah would spot him easily, intercept him before he even got both feet in the door and place him on the same table every time while she served him her weekly specials or simply items on the menu that she thought he would like. They began to exchange enough conversation to be at ease in each other's presence with each visit Flack made. They both figured out quickly that Don didn't like asparagus after the asparagus quiche she had given him to try once, but they also discovered that he loved her sweets. Every day he was served Savannah's delicious food became one more day he didn't see the cafe as 'the place where Jess was shot.'

Knowing that it wasn't fair to keep a cafe this good a secret, Flack began to bring whatever member of the CSI team he had a case with to the Comfort Cafe to meet Savannah and her food.

True to Flack's word, when he had brought Danny, the hungry Italian had instantly ordered three of the biggest dishes. Savannah had been a little skeptical that he would be able to eat it all, but Danny had proved her wrong and practically licked each plate clean in his enthusiasm. When she had come to collect the plates, the dark haired woman merely laughed at the sight of Don staring at his friend in amused disbelief while Danny had sighed and patted his full stomach contentedly. Soon after Lindsay had come for breakfast, glad to get some alone time. She had also been treated like Don and Danny, Savannah sprucing up ordinary pancakes with hot stewed apples just for the worn down mother. Stella and Mac had come in with Don at the beginning of the third week. Savannah hadn't known what to make of the Grecian woman at first, sensing there was much pain behind the smile, but once they began to talk, there was no stopping them. Hawkes had also made a quick visit, only enough to grab a sandwich and a promise of more next time he came in.

Much to Savannah's delight, ever since she had settled her grievance with the dark haired detective, it seemed like more policemen began to visit her cafe, keeping her busy.

Stepping in now, Don looked around and was prepared for the curly-haired whirlwind heading towards him. He headed for what he felt was 'his' table before she could grab him. "Coffee, Anna?" he called out.

"Sure thing! Be there in a few," Savannah promised, placing the order with her barista before finishing off clearing a table. Satisfied that the rest of her staff could handle things without her for five minutes, she grabbed Don's coffee and sat opposite him. "About to go on shift?" she asked curiously.

"How'd you guess?"

"Your clothes don't look like you've chased down some bad guy," Savannah replied with a grin, happy to see a smirk on Don's face.

"You're right. Not yet, but the day is still young," Don stated, taking a sip of the much needed brew. "Anything interesting happening around here?"

Shrugging, Savannah answered, "Not really. I've got some steak marinading in balsamic for lunch if you get an hour later. And there was this rude old lady who didn't feel like paying $10 for bacon and eggs, but nothing noteworthy."

"That's a good thing," Don said quietly.

The grey-green eyes sharpened. "I'm not complaining."

"I know that. But just reminding in case you feel like some more excitement past noon rush," the detective replied with a hint of sharpness to his tone.

"Careful detective…I just might withhold cheesecake," warned Savannah.

Flack winced. "That's cruel."

"I know it's just your way of taking care of people, but I'm a big girl. I can look after myself Flack." Sensing that this conversation was getting too deep for this almost-friendship, she quickly changed the topic. "Got time for breakkie before going off to save the world?"

"Not for a good one. Can you get me a sandwich?"

"Pfft. Can you get me a sandwich he says. Well I'd be a pretty poor cafe if I couldn't," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Did you eat a whip this morning? That tongue of yours is cutting pretty sharp," remarked Flack.

"I might have," teased Savannah, winking and heading into the kitchen to fulfil his request.

Flack found himself smirking. It was fun to get into little mini-debates in the brief moments they had when she didn't have to work or when he didn't have to rush out to get to a call. Kind and generous, Savannah had a fiery side he seemed to bring out often.

As Savannah came out with a pouch, his pager went off. Checking it, he groaned.

"Big one?"

"Yep," he replied. "Three DB's in TriBeCa. Gotta go." He took the sandwich and smiled. "Thanks for this."

"No worries. And if you happen to see Stella, tell her I'd love to go out with her this Saturday night. I forgot to get her number off her," she said.

Don frowned slightly. "That's not like Stella. She's a little wary of new people she meets because of-"

"Her ex Frankie and some stalker Drew," finished Savannah.

Flack searched the cafe owners face for any sign of ill intent and found none. "She told you?"

"Yeah. She came in yesterday just as I was about to lock up," the dark haired woman explained. "We shared hot chocolates as she talked. She mentioned something about how if you could stomach coming back here then there was something trustworthy about me. Needless to say, _I_ was surprised she felt comfortable enough to tell me."

"So am I. You know that if you tell anyone about what she confided-"

"Flack, I'm not stupid," Savannah admonished lightly. "I know that no one would ever be able to find the body."

They both chuckled awkwardly at that before Don sighed and murmured, "I know you wouldn't. It's just habit. I look out for that team and can be a little protective of them."

"It's a good thing," assured Savannah, and patted his shoulder. "Go on. Off to be superman."

Flack shook his head in amusement and left.

* * *

Deep within the routine of counting out her profit for the day, Savannah jumped as the front door creaked open and Flack stumbled in.

Abandoning the till, she rushed around to the detective standing confusedly in her doorway.

"Flack?" she asked uncertainly.

"You're still here? It's like…eight at night…I didn't even think I'd find you here," he mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

Savannah noticed the unopened bottle of beer in his hand and immediately knew this was serious. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to answer him. "A big group of people came in at 5.30. I couldn't get rid of them until an hour later and then I had to clean up. Flack…have you been drinking?"

"Just one," he replied quietly.

Carefully, reminded of approaching a feral animal, Savannah gently took the bottle from his hand and looked up into his face, breathing in. She could smell a little beer, but not a lot, seeming to support Flack's story. "What happened?"

"Bad day at work," Flack stated, looking around, finding that exact spot where Jess had lay. He made a strangled sound in his throat and gasped, "It was just a really bad day."

"Hey, come here," Savannah murmured, guiding the lost looking man to the nearest chair. She crouched in front of him and took his hands. "Want to talk about it? I'm a good listener…I promise."

"I know. Stella told me. She's happy you can go this Saturday," Don said.

"That's great Flack…so what happened?" she asked coaxingly, soothingly stroking his hands with her own.

His blue eyes, filled with old pain, fixated on their joined hands. "Last call out. Teenager was attacked in an alley in Little Italy. She was just alive when we got there, but she looked…she looked just like Jess. Big brown doe eyes, straight brown hair. There was all this blood…" he sucked in a deep breath of air. "It just sent me back to her death."

Understanding dawned on Savannah. "You loved the person who died here very much. Jessica, right?"

"Yeah." The admission was quiet and broken. " And I just…I just froze." He shook his head in shame. "After I got off shift I went to the first bar and downed the a beer without a thought. But Mac's voice came back to me. He straightened me up. I was such a mess after Jess's death. I'm better now, but it still hurts…it hurts so much that some days I just don't want to get out of bed." He looked at Savannah and laughed bitterly. "God, I'm sorry to unload on you like this, but I can't really talk to anyone else about this. They're all busy and they think I'm okay."

"I don't mind you talking to me. It's good for your soul," she murmured.

Sighing, Don said, "I just want the pain to leave me alone. I don't want her memory to just be negative."

"You have to work at it. Pain might fade, but it will only heal up faster if you remember all the good times you had with the ones you love," Savannah advised, moving to sit opposite the detective.

"How would you know?" he asked sullenly.

Savannah felt the sting of the silent 'you can't know what I feel,' and ignored it. "Because I've lost people I've loved. And it's been painful and cruel each time. I understand what you're going through Don."

Her use of his first name didn't bother him. Instead it spurred his curiosity. "Does it ever get easier?"

Closing her eyes against the memories that threatened to play, Savannah spoke wisely and softly. "It hurts. It sucks your heart and soul out and you wonder if you can ever find that same joy you had with that person again. You think that part of you is always lost. But there's something that I learned. When you lose the ones you love the most, that part of your heart will close off, and it may or may not heal. But then your heart will grow bigger and make room for joy once more."

"How can you be so sure?"

"It did for me. For four people."

Flack stared wide-eyed at Savannah. "Four?"

"Yes," she admitted freely.

Don tilted his head to the side, knowing now why the woman in front of him had bent over backwards for him once she found out why he avoided her cafe. Because she understood what he was going through. "Who were they?"

"Oh no, we are not going to avoid this. Right now, we're talking about you. My story can wait until a much later date," Savannah said sharply.

"Whoa, easy tiger."

Sighing, she replied, "I don't mean to get snappy, but I'm not ready to share everything about it just yet."

"You know I'd understand," Don said.

"I know. But I don't think it'd be good if we both wallowed in remembrance of misery at the same time," Savannah explained softer than before. They both shared a few moments of silence before she asked tentatively, "What was Jessica Angell like?"

"You would have liked her," Don said after a second of hesitation. "She loved food. Whenever we went out, she was always dragging me to one of her favourite places. I'm sure she would have made this place her second home with you here. She was tough. I've seen her take down a guy almost twice her size and interrogate a suspect so well he was sweating bullets. She always had my back, and was really smart. And she had a hidden cheeky streak. Jess was a great person."

"I'm sure she was." Grey-green eyes saw the sheen of tears in blue ones and felt her own urge to cry. She knew how hard it was to _live_ when people you loved so intensely were gone. Impelled, she grabbed Flack's hand again and squeezed it. "Anytime you have another bad day, you come to me if you can't go anywhere else. I promise you can trust me Don."

"I trust you more than the department shrink, that's for sure," he replied with a watery grin, making Savannah chuckle.

"Hang on," she murmured, getting up and grabbing a piece of docket paper from the back of her jeans. "This is my cell number. Call me if you need an open ear."

"I will," promised Flack, carefully placing the scrap of paper in his wallet. He stood and said, "Thanks for this Savannah. I don't know what it is about you, but…I felt like I could talk to you, and I'm glad I did."

"Me too. Better that than trying to find a friend at the bottom of a bottle," Savannah said.

Don got the hint and nodded. "Thanks again. I mean it."

"I know you do."

* * *

**A/N: **That last scene was a really hard scene to write. I wanted Flack to be emotional but also not go…well, mental. And I hope I hit the right tone with their burgeoning friendship. I tried really hard to keep that balance, which is why I think I found this so challenging.

Let me know what you all think. Your feedback has always been more than fair, and I deeply appreciate it.

See you guys in about a week – uni calls.


	6. Revelations

**A/N:Thank you to Forest Angel, Smuffly, bjq, High Guardian, no accounter, and moxicity for your wonderful reviews. Forest, in answer to your question, the reason Flack went there is because he's beginning to like the place and also because he felt like he didn't have anyone else to turn to at the point. Like he says: 'they all think I'm okay.' So Savannah seemed to be the only conclusion.**

**For this chap: **I didn't know the date within the series as to when Angell died, so I'm putting in the air date of 'Pay Up.' I also was concerned with chapter, and probably will be from here on in, as things are revealed about Savannah and in how Don and Savannah eventually connect. So I hope you enjoy, I ripped through some uni work to get this out earlier than I thought.

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 5 – Revelations**

* * *

_Always you will be part of me  
And I will forever feel your strength  
When I need it most  
You're gone now, gone but not forgotten_

**Westlife – I'll see you again**

* * *

As soon as Flack woke up the next day he was filled with purpose.

After catching a cab back home, he had truly thought about Savannah's words from their conversation. So he had gotten Jess's old baseball cap and stared at it, willing himself not to think about her death or the consequences of it. Instead, he pictured her on the day they had played baseball with his YMCA kids. Her smile had been non-stop and the kids had adored her.

He had fallen asleep, dreaming of her. She had hugged him, whispering French into his ear. He couldn't understand her, but it didn't matter. He knew they were words of love and forgiveness. Before the dream faded, Jess had finally spoken in English. "I'm so proud of you that you didn't succumb completely to your demons. You're working at it every day. I'll be your guardian angel forevermore, Don."

Knowing it was due to Savannah's influence that he even tried the positive memory trick, Don decided to bring her a thank you gift.

It was a good thing he didn't have to be on duty until noon, as it gave him the chance to search for exactly Savannah wanted. She had made a comment while he had been in about a week ago, something about how she wanted to get a flower mould for cakes but she thought she would regret such a 'frivolous' expense later.

Three shops and one flower tin mould later, Flack headed over to Comfort Cafe, looking forward to seeing Savannah's response to it.

Hiding the bag behind his back, he stepped in, looking around for the tall woman. When he didn't see her, he surmised she must be in the kitchen cooking up a storm. Shrugging, he approached the counter to make his order. Just as he reached it, something caught his eye, and he looked up.

Shock stopped him dead in his tracks.

There, on the left of a line of four plaques, was Jessica Angell's face staring back at him. Those definitely hadn't been there when he had left yesterday. It was the photo from the front of the newspapers after her death, in her uniform.

Observant eyes noted the silver lettering just below the letter. '_Jessica Angell, killed in action in this place 5.14.09. She will be missed.'_

So absorbed in staring at the plaque, Flack missed the sound of Savannah's footsteps.

"I'll take it down if you don't like it," she said quietly.

Don whirled around. "When did you do this?"

"As soon as I got home last night. I saw the wooden frames in a shop on my way back and I thought that they'd be perfect for this kind of thing. Remembrance," Savannah justified. Seeing that Flack was speechless, she repeated, "I can take it down Don, if it hurts too much. I won't mind."

"No, no, no, it's all good. I mean, it's really good of you to do this. It's…" He really didn't have any words for it. Wonderful, heartfelt, showing understanding, thoughtful. This woman just kept surprising him when he least expected it. "I'm really glad you put it up there," he finally said.

Savannah beamed. "As long as you like it."

"I do. Who are the other three though?" Flack asked, pointing to the other photos.

"My mother Evangeline," she replied, pointing to the picture on the far right, "and the two in the middle were my best friends. Amanda Roths and James Olger. They were engaged." Her voice trailed off sadly at the end, and Flack got the sense she wasn't used to talking about these people. Hoping to take her mind off of it, he brought the bag up in front of him.

"I came in here today to bring you this," he said.

"You didn't have to get me anything Don," insisted Savannah.

"I wanted to. You didn't judge me or brush me off or do anything but listen to me last night. This is just to show a little appreciation," Flack replied, placing the bag into her hands.

Taking the tin out of the bag, the brunette woman grinned even wider in delight. "You remembered!" she crowed happily.

"Well, I am a detective. It's kinda my job to remember stuff like that."

Making a face at his sarcasm, Savannah let it slide and briefly embraced Flack. He reeled from the simple action. Not many people he knew would have reacted like this for a simple cake pan. "Thanks for this. I might even let you have your cheesecake privileges back."

"That doesn't count. I didn't even know you took them away."

Savannah released him. "I threatened to, and that's enough. So, up for something to eat?"

"I swear, you're trying to dominate New York by feeding people," remarked Flack with a little smirk.

"Too right. Some people need an education in food," Savannah bantered back. "Heavy or light, sweet or savoury?"

"Sweet 'n' light please," replied Flack eagerly, taking his usual table. "You gonna sit down with me or are you going to flap around like a madman?"

Savannah put an expression of mock astonishment on her face. "Madman? How dare you impugn me of such a thing! It's mad_woman_ thank you very much." Flack snorted in laughter at that before she answered, "I can steal a moment. There's not too many people around and I have to try my own pie after all."

"What is it today?"

"Patience!" the brunette admonished playfully

"Patience pie? That's a new one," Don teased.

She chuckled, heading into the kitchen to get the dessert. She pulled the freeform pie out of the fridge and marvelled at the beauty of the berries she had packed into it. She cut two slices, slid them out onto plates and dusted them with icing sugar. She quickly took a bite of her own slice of berry pie and almost moaned in appreciation. It was delicious. It was one of those rare times where she thought '_damn I'm good_.'

Bringing out the berry pie, Savannah slowed as she neared the table. Flack's attention was elsewhere, on a complaining toddler on the next table over, which gave her the rare opportunity to observe him without him realising. The lines of sadness around his mouth seemed less, and he looked comfortable sitting there.

By God, he was handsome.

Pushing away the very feminine part of her, Savannah sat and set the plates in front of them.

Flack raised an eyebrow. "You are seriously threatening my figure."

"You realise how girly you sounded when you said that?"

Flack argued, "I did not."

"Did too. '_Like, oh my god, how many calories do I have to puke up later?'_ teenage girl whining," Savannah teased.

"Whatever, I'm having to try and resist your seriously sinful food more often," Don said, popping a forkful of the berries into his mouth.

"Try," smirked the brunette cafe owner, "you'll never be able to do it."

Flack seemed to be seriously thinking for a moment before shrugging. "You're right. I throw the white flag at your feet," he deadpanned.

Savannah giggled at that.

After demolishing the pie, Don waited until Savannah had cleared their table and fetched water before he said, "I'm going to ask you a question. It's out of curiosity. And I'd really like you to answer it. But you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Shoot," invited Savannah.

Nodding towards the four plaques, Flack asked, "Which one of those three can you tell me about?"

Some of the spark in Savannah's eyes died at that. Seeing it, the detective reassured, "Anna, you don't have to tell me."

"But it is because you've given me the option of doing so that I want to tell you," Savannah replied with an odd sense of logic. Sighing, she played with the ends of her curly ponytail. "You trusted me with your pain. I'll trust you with a little of mine."

Flack leaned back in his chair, softening his expression so she could see he was trying to be approachable. Meeting his eyes with her green-grey ones, Savannah said, "My mother, Evangeline, is perhaps easier to talk about that the other two." Smiling fondly, she explained, "My Mama was perhaps the greatest role model in my life. After my father died when I was young, she was forced to be strong for me. We moved from Louisiana to Hampton in Virginia because it was easier for the both of us. Ever since I was little, she'd let me help her make dinner, whether it be peeling potatoes or soaking beans, Mama always gave me something to do. She gave me my greatest passion."

"Food."

"Right. Food," replied Savannah, "but more than that, the satisfaction of making something with your own hands and enjoying it. Enjoying it with others or enjoying it by yourself, it didn't matter. Mama was a character. She sung in the gospel choir every Sunday and I'd join her from the pews. She taught me to be thankful. But most of all…she taught me to love." Seeing the puzzlement in the detective's expression, she went on. "You see, Mama thought that I'd grow bitter after my father died, so she coddled me. I was very sheltered until my late teenage years, but the advantage of that was that she encouraged to be kind above all and to look beyond the facade that people put up. She was a firm believer of healing pain through love instead of a heavy handed approaches and hoping that people can work things out on their own. As a result, I became like my school's 'agony aunt.' I listened to anyone's problem and didn't give them advice unless they asked for it. I was, and even now I still am a bit naive about the world. Mama…well, she always told me it was good to see the world through different eyes."

"Sounds like she was quite the woman," observed Don.

"Oh she was," agreed Savannah. "The only people who didn't like her were the ones that thought she was too outspoken. She could be really opinionated."

"I'll bet, because you are," teased Don.

"Ha Ha. Her influence was important. It taught me patience. I might be a good listener, but it doesn't mean I won't get fed up with people."

"That was obvious from our first meeting."

"You betcha," smirked Savannah. "I can empathise with people and detect their hurts, but there is no excuse for rudeness and I don't suffer fools lightly. Sometimes I would go home after work or college and complain, 'Ma, I know that I'm supposed to find something to love in everything, but sometimes people are so _stupid_.' She'd just chuckle, pat my head, and remind me that we can't do anything but try our best. Mama taught me that. Trust my instincts about people, and love the ones who need it."

Flack was gratified that Anna had decided to tell him all this, but he still didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle just yet. Quietly, he asked, "How old were you when she passed?"

The smile turned melancholy. Savannah's emotions were so tangible in the air it was like a thick cloud. "22. I had just graduated from college that week. I had completed my degree in business management and psychology." She drew a shaky breath, but kept her composure. "I came home after meeting with a property agent…I had been looking at places to set up my first cafe. I found Mama in bed, gone."

"What from?"

"Lung cancer. She didn't even _tell_ me. She just kept saying she was sick and that she would get better soon. I saw her getting worse day by day and I tried to help her in any way I could. I only found out the day before the funeral. I was in shock for a long time that Mama didn't tell me what she was going through. Even at 22, she still wanted to protect me from a world I knew was sick," revealed Savannah. "It hurt so much that I didn't know."

"I think I'd be pretty upset too if my own parents didn't tell me they were facing a terminal disease," empathised Flack.

"Anyone would. I hated that Mama had to go through it all alone. Her death was the second biggest loss in my life after my father at that point," she replied softly. "I even named my cafe Eva's after her." There were a few moments of silence before Savannah wondered aloud, "I always wanted to know if it would have been easier struggling with the hurt if I had known, or if ignorance had been better. I'll never know."

Flack was silent. Savannah had revealed so much to him. Her comments last night made so much more sense. They both lost so much with one passing of someone they cared for. Echoing the gesture the brunette had made last night, he reached out and took her hand. She seemed to pull herself out of her memories and smiled at him.

"Thanks."

"It gets easier each time I tell it," Savannah admitted. "It's good for me. Besides, you understand. That makes a big difference." She then managed a weak but believable smile. "No more of this glum mood. I have people to feed and bring happiness to, and I'm sure you've got some hell to bring to some law-breakers."

"I do," replied Flack, but his eyes were still serious and on hers. "But I can spend a few more minutes."

"I'm okay Don. I've learned to let the pain wash over me. I can manage. It's either manage or break, and I'm one of those people who resolutely refuses to break no matter what," the green eyed woman pronounced determinedly. "I appreciate your concern though. And the flower cake tin."

"Oh, if you appreciate a simple cake tin, then everything is right with you?"

Rolling her eyes a little, Savannah observed, "You can't help but want to get the last word on everything, can you?"

"Nope," Flack smirked.

"Just so you know, I appreciate more than the cake tin, Don," Savannah said in a much more gentle tone of voice.

Don saw she really meant it and nodded. "Yeah. I do."

"Well get on, detective, New York needs you and your special brand of wit," Savannah teased, changing track and shooing him off with her usual smile.

Amazed by her resilience, Flack merely shook his head, dropped a $10 tip in the jar by the till and left feeling, more than ever, that he had judged Anna too early, too quickly.

* * *

**A/N: I hope I haven't turned you off by these serious talks – both in this chapter and in last chapter. Things will lighten up in the next two chapters, I promise. More information is revealed about Savannah in chapter 9. **

**As always, reviews are always helpful and appreciated. Hopefully I can upload another chapter around Tuesday. Until then, hope you liked this one. **


	7. Protective

**A/N: Thank you to smuffly, bjq, and no accounter for your reviews on the last chapter. They were very helpful, and I'm glad you gave me the feedback. I would also like to take this moment to thank any new followers/favourites for their liking of this fic. I hope I continue to write up to your standards.**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 6 – Protective**

* * *

_I'll be your keeper for life as your guardian  
I'll be your warrior of care your first warden  
I'll be your angel on call, I'll be on demand  
The greatest honor of all, as your guardian_

**Alanis Morissette - Guardian**

* * *

"…and the head wound is consistent with blunt force trauma."

"You know anything distinctive about it which I can use guys to canvass for?"

"Nah," replied Danny, "no tool marks or any substance that could identify it. Sid'll know more when we get this guy back to the lab."

"Well, from the little bit of heroin you scraped off the vic's shirt, I'm guessing this is a drug deal gone bad. Look around. Abandoned apartment, no evident murder weapon," Flack illustrated, looking around the stark space. "I can tell this one is going to be the Cracker Jack prize."

Bagging and tagging some blonde hairs – inconsistent with their black haired vic – Danny said, "That's the last of everything I've marked. Nothing else catches my eye. Wanna get some food?"

"Sure, just let me check in with dispatch. Where do you feel like going?"

"Savannah's. Is there anywhere else?"

"There was before she came into town," replied Flack with a smirk.

"Not anymore!" pronounced Danny with a smile. He patted his stomach. "I'm looking forward to one of her burgers. Man, I am so happy she ended up putting them as a special."

"Lindsay wasn't happy you spoiled your dinner though," Flack pointed out.

"No she wasn't. Until I bought her one the next day. She understood everything then," the bespectacled man replied with a sure grin.

They finished off what they needed to, making sure that the chain of custody wasn't compromised as they delivered the evidence back to the lab. Flack then notified dispatch of his allotted break and the two friends travelled to the Comfort Cafe. When they got there, almost every table was full. Loud families, busy workers, cops, lawyers, and the odd university student here and there filled the place.

Savannah was in the midst of it, sailing past a table to drop off orders before scurrying over to the next the clear the plates and check to make sure everything was enjoyed. Jacks, her cousin, was manning the till with a no nonsense ease while the two regular waitresses moved to and fro.

Even in the cacophony of sound surrounding her, the brunette cooking whiz heard her favourite detective's distinctive voices. She picked her way past the tables to get to their usual table they had sat at, taking a moment to breathe. "Hey boys, how's life?"

"Can't complain," replied Flack.

"I can. I'm achin' for one of those burgers you do so well Anna," Danny said, putting on his puppy dog act.

Chuckling at the Italian's antics, Savannah ruffled his hair. "Flatterer. What about you, Don? Hungry as the carnivore here?"

"Not quite as hungry, but whatever you want to test on me, bring it on," the taller detective said.

Nodding, the busy woman hurried away to put their order in.

"You know, you never answered me when I asked you that question a few days ago," mused Danny, noticing the nuances in his friends change in attitude over the past week.

"What question Danno?"

"What's going on with you and Anna? I mean, I knew from when I first came here that you two were getting along pretty well after the incident of your first meeting, but the way you guys look at each other has changed a bit. It's like you're more familiar with each other or something," Danny explained observantly.

Flack knew that as his friend, Danny was just being concerned, but he was reluctant for anyone to know about his connection with the former southerner. It was Anna's story to tell, just as his relationship with Jess and how much he missed her was his own story to tell. Because of their mutual confessions, friendship had been forged on the understanding of each other's hidden pain. "I've come to find she's cool. That's all. She's been more understanding than most."

"Was it because of Jess's picture prettying up the place?"

"It was part of that. It was just a nice gesture on her part," replied Don. His gaze travelled to the smiling picture of his late lover. "Savannah empathises really well. She's a great listener."

" I know that," said Danny. "She let me yak on about Lucy long enough last time Linds and I came for breakfast before shift. She's good for a laugh too."

"Yeah," Flack murmured fondly, his sharp eyes seeing the woman in question sit down behind the till for a moment and attempt to tame the unruly waves and curls into a bun. Her face was slightly flushed from the heat coming from the kitchen and she was muttering to herself – most likely reminding herself about keeping track of orders. She called out something indistinct, but someone heard her, for they poked their head through the kitchen door.

Being so close, both Flack and Danny recognised the person. Harper Bloc had been arrested about a year ago for possession of cocaine and for selling it to an underage teen. Because it had been his first arrest, the judge had gone relevantly light on him. Six months in prison with two years probation. He was African American, skinny as a stick and looked permanently petulant.

It had been a minor arrest, but a useful one. Bloc had been the witness to a robbery-homicide case Don and Danny had worked on.

"What the hell is Bloc doin' workin' here? That Anna is too trustin' I reckon," the shorter man exclaimed.

"I wonder what speech worked on her. The 'no, I'm an ivy league student' one or the 'I've reformed my ways' one."

"Money's on reformation," remarked Danny.

"We'll ask when she comes back with the food," said Flack.

But he was troubled. From what he had gathered, Savannah tried to care for those who she thought needed it. Charity cases like Bloc probably fell under that category. He would hate for the lively woman to be shaken in her faith of humanity by Bloc shooting up with drugs and going crazy here.

When things calmed down a bit, Savannah made her way over with their meals. "All right, Triple Carnivore for my little Italian friend, and for tall guy, I got you the club sandwich with a side of sweet potato fries."

"Come to papa!" Danny said excitedly, licking his lips as he took in the massive burger.

"No inventions today?" quipped Don.

"Not today Zurg. Got too busy too early to try for the spaghetti marinara I wanted to make," Savannah shot back.

"Don't tease like that," Danny moaned through his burger. "I love marinara…just as much as this burger."

Amused, Savannah promised, "Next time you and Lindsay don't feel like making a family dinner, let me know and I'll make a pot before I finish up for the day."

"You're the best," the shorter man complimented.

"Thank you."

"I wish I could say the same for one of your staff members," Flack murmured.

Savannah's brows snapped together in a frown. "What do you mean? Has one of the girls made a massive mistake or something?"

"Not the girls. You spoke to someone in the kitchen before and we saw him. We recognised him when he got busted for heroin use and selling. We just thought you'd like to know," explained Don.

"Harper? Oh yeah, I knew that." Savannah waved off the warning like a pesky fly.

Flack's mouth tightened into a thin line. "You don't think that it'll be bad for business that an ex-con just so happens to be working for you? What did he do, tell you that prison made him a changed man, that he really needed the job? He's not someone you can rely on _or_ trust," he said bluntly. Grey-green eyes bored into his, and he was fully prepared for a retort.

"I am giving him a chance like I gave you a chance. He's only 21. He's young. I told him straight that I wouldn't have someone on the wrong side of the law on my payroll, and he promised me that I wouldn't see any of that. I told him that if he keeps his nose clean, I can promise him regular hours each week dishwashing and cleaning with fair pay and food. One chance, or he's out, and he knows it," Savannah said quietly and evenly. "This is just my gut, but I think he means it. I know you're cynical from your time as a detective, but I also have to remind you, that if this is a mistake, then it was mine to make and learn from."

"Savannah-"

"I can take care of myself Don," she reminded sternly.

Flack paused and then murmured, "I know you can. I'm just concerned."

Seeming satisfied by that comment, Savannah backed down a bit. She looked ready to say something when she got called away. She bit her lip and glanced back at the detective pair. Don nodded and she went off to take care of business.

"Sparks, much?" muttered Danny.

"What?"

"Nothin'. She does have a point Flack. Maybe Bloc is on the straight and narrow now, who knows?"

"That I doubt, but let's give him a little incentive just in case before we leave," Flack said, steely and determined. Danny grinned in return. It was always fun to play off the other when going after someone.

When they finished up and paid, the pair made their way to a side alley where the dumpster for the cafe sat. As luck would have it, Bloc was out there, hoisting a bag full of scraps into it.

"Yo, Bloc!" Danny called.

Bloc looked up and recognition flared. "Yo, whatever you're comin' after meh for, Ah ain't done it. Ah ain't done anythin' since Ah lost them shiny silver bracelets ya'll slapped on me."

"Save it. We're just here to deliver a warning," Flack said.

"Yeah? About what?" Bloc replied stubbornly.

"It's so cute when they try to stand up to us," Flack remarked to his friend.

"Only shows us how much of a kid they are," Danny bantered back.

Bloc rolled his eyes. "A'ight, a'ight, Ah'll listen. Just hurry it up, Ah gotta job to do ya know."

Feeling oddly protective of the brunette cafe owner, Flack stepped closer to Bloc and murmured, "We know. That's why we're here."

"Oh, come _on_, man," whined Bloc.

Irritated, Flack grabbed the front of the kid's shirt and pulled him closer. "Your boss, that woman in there? She happens to mean a lot to the NYPD. Gives us a real five star treatment compared to other people. Now that you're working for her, you better give her five star effort or you're out, in more ways than being fired. We find you doing drugs, or pinching so much as a penny out of the tip jar, you're going to get hell."

"Chill, chill!" Bloc protested, wriggling out of the grip. "Ya'll think Ah'm that stupid to muck this up?" He straightened his shirt and jerked his thumb in the direction of the cafe. "Miss Anna been the only one to give me a job since Ah had a room reserved in the form of a cell. Ah'm damn near broke without this job. She didn't see the jail rap, she gave meh a chance to earn an honest livin' for once. And besides, this a cop hangout. Ah know a lot of bacon gonna be after me if Ah even curse in there."

"Too right," Danny muttered.

Flack was unconvinced. "You just stay on the squeaky clean side of things or else."

"A'ight, Flack, a'ight," Bloc placated, holding his hands up.

"Good. Keep it that way," advised the taller detective seriously, and stalked away, Danny following.

As they got into the car, Danny remarked, "Jeez Flack, you really let go on him."

"Savannah has been through enough. She doesn't need some petty idiot making things hard on her," replied Flack.

"You sweet on her?" the shorter man questioned.

"No."

"C'mon Don, even I've noticed she's a pretty one. I wouldn't be surprised at all, hell, I'd encourage it," Danny probed, intrigued.

"It's not like that. Like I told you back in there, she understands me. We're friends," Flack enunciated, trying to get him to drop the subject.

Unfortunately for Don, Danny was a detective like himself and had a penchant for putting clues together. The pictures next to Angell's, the way the tone of Flack and Anna's interactions had changed a bit each time they went into her cafe, the hints they both had unknowingly dropped – it all fit together and the penny dropped. "She's lost someone like you have. And you guys told each other about it. That's it, isn't it?"

Flack rolled his eyes and sighed. "You are so nosy."

"But I'm right."

"Yes, you're right, happy? Would you like me to pull over so you can do a victory lap for figuring that out?" the taller man asked sarcastically.

"Nah, you can just shout me the next beer at Sullivan's," Danny replied easily, smirking.

"Smarmy isn't a good look on you Messer. Lindsay still doesn't know about those photos of you trying Lucy's tutu on at her request-"

"Do you _have_ to result to blackmail whenever I almost win a wit session?"

Don smiled. "Yep."

* * *

That night, Jacks and Savannah sat at the latter's table, drinking cinnamon and apple flavoured tea.

"What a day," murmured Savannah, taking her hair out of her bun.

"Tuckered everyone out. You know why we were so busy?"

"Apparently our burger special is what drew people in Jacks. Nice idea by the way," complimented the taller woman.

"But your execution was better than mine," replied Jacks easily. "Say, what was up with those good-looking detectives today? They looked a bit cross when they saw Harper."

"They weren't happy I hired an ex-con. I told them that it was my choice to give the boy a chance."

"I expected that. Nah, what I meant was, since when have you and tall boy been on such good terms?"

"I don't know what you mean, Jacks," replied Savannah coyly.

"Oh you know good and well, cuz. I know you two were makin' nice after he came in for dinner, but now you both look downright chummy," Jacks pointed out.

"Is it _that_ obvious?" Savannah asked softly.

Jacks's eagerness for juicy gossip faded at that. "Only to those that know you. You seem a bit lighter. What's going on Anna?"

The younger woman took a sip from her tea, relaxing in her chair and answered, "A week ago – when we had that late table, remember, and I stayed back to clean up? – he came in. Jacks, I've never seen such a face full of struggle as I did when he looked at me and told me his story. About Jessica Angell, who he loved, that died there, about how it's so hard for him. He reminded me so much of myself. The next day I told him about Mama."

"You told him about Aunt Eva?" asked Jacks in surprise.

"Yeah," murmured Savannah.

Jacks scanned her cousin's face. "You already care for him," she observed.

Savannah chuckled. "It makes me sound so stupid, right? So clichéd. Like one of those novels where it says 'from the first look, we connected,' but it's true, I care for Don. I knew there was something about him. Understanding made all the difference, I think. Commiseration adds a new dimension to perception of a person."

"Maybe viewing him as something more than a friend?" asked Jacks with a little mischievous grin.

"No!" protested Savannah, but her blush gave her away.

"Oooh, that's not what your face says," teased the older woman.

"I think he's handsome. And he's a good person, and he's shown I have his confidence with my secrets," the younger said. "But I don't think either of us are looking for that kind of thing right at the moment. In the future, it could be a possibility which would be nice, but if not, then nothing will change. We'll be friends who share the losses with each other to help with our emotional burdens ."

Jacks wisely didn't reply to that, seeing where this was all heading if things went well. She would let her cousin stew a little more in denial. "All right. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow then chere."

"Tomorrow." Savannah toasted Jacks with her empty mug.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to let everyone know that Harper's accent was a thing of fun on my part. I mean no disrespect in making him having an accent. I do not assume that everyone of African-American descent speaks like that.** I just wanted to say that in case you all thought I was being racist/bigoted. 

I love Flack getting all tough guy and protective in _any_ CSI:NY episode, so I tried to capture that here. I really love the support this fic has gotten, and I enjoy that it has continued to be supported. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter too. Let me know what you thought. Next chapter should be up AFTER Wednesday. I've got the assignments due then, so I really can't work on fanfiction. (I've been procrastinating enough already, lol). So I'll be back with a brand new chapter then.

Oh! And 'no accounter' in response to your review: My audience will eventually know what happened to them, but not for a long while. I have many other things to write and build up before I decide to reveal anything about them.


	8. Sightseeing

**A/N: Thank you so much to no accounter, smuffly, and Leslie Emm, bjq, and 'guest' for your amazing reviews on the last chapter.**

**Can I just mention that as I'm in Australia, I have only watched up to season 5? I had NO IDEA that there was a character in the 7****th**** season called Jo that was southern. Or that there was someone who was the 'best cook' in 8****th**** season who becomes Mac's girlfriend. I realise now that it looks like I've taken the best aspects of those characters when I honestly didn't know they existed. So if that's turned you off, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 7 – Sightseeing**

* * *

_And I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away  
Don't wanna be misunderstood  
But I'm starting to believe that this could be the start of something good_

**Daughtry – Start of Something Good**

* * *

Savannah was just talking to some kids of her customers, inquiring about their favourite milkshake flavours, when a casually dressed Flack walked through the door. He was in jeans, brown sneakers, and a brown print t-shirt covered by a grey jacket. Savannah paused in the middle of her sentence, not used to seeing the usually slick detective so laid-back in his dress. She recovered with a quick smile, finishing up with the table and submitting the order before meeting him at his table.

"Day off?" she inquired benignly.

"Half. I just got off work about an hour ago. And before you ask, yeah, I'm hungry. Feed me whatever you want, oh great Edesia."

Savannah looked astounded. "Are you a Roman mythology buff or did you just happen to know that Edesia is the Roman goddess of the feast?"

Don managed to look both sheepish and innocent as he replied, "Stella was talking about the differences between Roman and Greek mythology. Edesia happened to come up and it's been stuck in my head since then."

"I'll take it as a compliment then."

She then whirled around to get help her staff serve other orders – making milkshakes, sandwiches, checking on her daily specials and such – before serving her newest special for herself and Flack. "Cajun spiced chicken schnitzel and salad," she announced proudly.

"Salad?" Flack asked dubiously.

"Contrary to popular male belief, one salad won't kill you, I'm sure of it. Have you ever been on a case where _salad_ has killed someone?" Savannah countered, sensing victory when the black haired man concentrated hard on finding a case, any case that he remembered where salad had been part of the murder or crime. There had been an live octopus that had asphyxiated a woman, but much to his dismay, no one had ever choked their victim with lettuce or beat them to death with a cucumber. Huffing, he muttered, "Today's total. Anna: 1, Don: 0."

"It's a nice salad," Savannah defended kindly, "I even put a nice creamy mustard ranch dressing on it."

"Can you make it sound more appetizing than that? I want you to do your best used car salesman-like thing for this salad," Flack challenged light-heartedly.

Savannah did that mischievous eyebrow raise and chuckled before modulating her voice and expression. With a genial air, she emphasised her slight southern accent with a twang and tried out her acting skills. "Look at this beautiful salad. Not only is it healthy, but the components are so full of flavour. Take this lettuce," she picked up a leaf and held it before her, "so delightfully light green, fresh and crisp." She took a bite and moaned slightly. "Refreshing. And these beautiful, lovingly prepared cut tomatoes, bursting full of flavour that tantalises every tastebud into doing a rumba. Sweet, reminiscent of the fields of tomatoes in Italy. Cucumber, underappreciated, but classic, the perfect accompaniment to any salad. They are the party vegetable. They go with any salad. And last, but not least, crisp shredded carrot and smooth, buttery, tangy ranch and mustard dressing just to jazz it up a bit and bring you back down to earth."

The two stared at each other after her food soliloquy before Flack burst into laughter and Savannah giggled.

"I couldn't tell if I was in a food version of Harry Met Sally, or if I was in some Mickey D's commercial," Don said, amused. "That was pretty good. I'm actually wanting to try it now."

"Anna: 2, Don: 0," Savannah said proudly.

"It'll be me two up when I've told you the real reason why I'm here."

"Why then?"

"What, you think I'll tell you when I haven't eaten?" Don replied incredulously. "Slim chance. My stomach's been rumbling since I left the precinct."

"Now who's being cruel?"

"You threatened to withhold cheesecake…I'm just delaying info."

"Touché," Savannah murmured, digging into her own meal.

Flack purposely took his time eating, dragging out the lunch just to make Savannah wait. She looked a little irritated, and instead left to polish some cutlery. He smirked to himself. One point for him. He finally finished and Savannah practically pounced back onto the table and asked, "So what are you doing here that is going to be so exciting?"

The blue eyes gleamed cheekily. He scratched his chin, nonchalantly leaning back in his chair as Savannah's eyes bored into his own, probing for an answer. He finally relented and stated, "I'm going to take you sightseeing."

Instead of the all out glee he was expecting, the brunette's whole demeanour changed. She bit her lower lip in uncertainty and darted a look around the cafe. "Don, look, it's a wonderful offer and I appreciate it, but I can't leave here. It's been too steady for me today to just leave."

Flack's brows kitted and he stubbornly set his jaw. He caught sight of Jacks by the till and got an idea. "Hey Jacks!" he called. "Would you mind if I took your cousin off your hands for a day off?"

"Please!" Jacks replied with a grin. "That girl has been working too hard lately. Take her out to see New York."

Victory assured now, Flack turned back towards Savannah, smug. "You were saying?"

"You're an ass."

"But you like me that way," countered Don knowingly.

Making a noise of amusement, Savannah untied her apron, hanging it up and gesturing to her jeans, flats, and scoop necked black shirt. "Am I set for wherever you have planned?"

"Yep, just get a jacket. It's breezy out," he replied.

Soon they were on their way, Flack opting to drive them to their first destination. Savannah asked him why he was doing this and he replied simply, "I have a half-day off and I'm bored. And I couldn't annoy anyone else without repercussions." Seeing the woman's unimpressed look at his wit, he said more genuinely, "You're still new to the city. From what I've seen, you haven't really had the time to do the really touristy kind of stuff that's a _must_, so I'm taking charge." He then glanced at her and went on, "I'm a local, so I know the good spots. Besides, I like you. You're cool, Anna."

"You're cool too. Even if you are eating me out of house and cafe."

"I am not."

Savannah giggled. "I have a line for you in my budget."

Flack looked disbelieving. "You gotta be kidding me."

"I am," she replied with a grin, getting a reciprocating one from Flack.

* * *

Turns out that the first place Flack had arranged for them to go was to the 102nd floor observatory of the Empire State building. Parking in the underground lot, he said, "This is like a rite of passage, you realise. Even the born and bred in New York have to go to the Empire State once in their lifetime."

"How many times have you gone up?"

"Well, I had a crime scene on one of the floors once. Apart from that, I've been to the observatories four times in total. It's an experience not to be missed," Don answered, leading Savannah to the entrance. "And we're in luck. I know a guy who'll let us cut in the waiting line."

"Won't other people get stroppy with us for cutting in?" she probed dubiously.

"It's New York," Flack enunciated. He shrugged. "Happens all the time. Don't you want to get up there quicker so we can have more time to actually view the city?"

"Point taken," replied Savannah, resolving to just let Flack lead, and to just absorb all that he was volunteering to do for her. Just like he had said, when they got up to the lobby lines for the observatories, a pimple faced middle aged man let them through before about thirty people queued up. They were also lucky enough to get an elevator to themselves. As the car lurched upwards, Savannah found herself grinning and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was actually in the Empire State Building, about to be on the top floor observatory! Not everyone could claim to that.

"Ah, now that's the response I was looking for earlier," Don said approvingly.

"Shush you…you'll ruin the view once I get there," teased Savannah.

"Need I remind you that there are other places I'm thinking of showing you later?"

"Zipping the lip now," the brunette said, mimicking the action of zipping her lips and locking them closed. Flack shook his head in amusement and they spent the rest of the elevator ride in silence, save for the cheesy elevator music. When they reached the top, Savannah eagerly stepped out and had to catch her breath.

It was beautiful.

Stunning.

There were not enough words to describe the view.

"Holy cow," she breathed.

Flack took one look at her awestruck face and grinned. "Not many views like this in Hampton, right?"

"Not at all," Savannah replied, drifting towards the glass observatory windows, placing a hand on them as she took in the scenery. "This is amazing."

Flack nodded and came to stand beside her, seeing his home from a birds-eye view. It always affected him like that too, but he simply controlled it better. The corner of his mouth pulled to the side in a rueful smile. A pang of regret, strong and overwhelming, hit him for a brief moment. He had wanted to take Jess up here. He shook it off and turned his attention to the stunned silent brunette next to him.

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"It's a John Keats quote from one of his poems. I can't remember which one," explained Savannah, riveted to the richness of scenery presented to her. "I just wish I could photo capture this in my mind forever. You know, I feel the most spiritual in times like this."

"How do you mean?" asked Don quietly.

"I feel so small in the multitude of the universe," replied, equally as soft.

"Yeah. I know how that feels," Flack commiserated.

They stood, drinking it in.

In silence, they headed for the elevator half an hour later, finally having their fill of observation of New York. They didn't speak until they were back in Flack's car, when he cleared his throat and said, "Up next: Central Park Zoo."

"Oh, cool," nodded Savannah, her solemnity fading into gradual anticipation. "Haven't been to one of those in a long, long while. Anything interesting happen there?"

"Once there was a body dump in the tiger cage – Stripes ended up having an early lunch."

"Are you taking me sightseeing or is this like a haunted houses tour…only with crime scenes you've been to?" Savannah asked warily.

Flack grinned at her, and she challenged him with a stare. He eventually cracked and said, "I don't mean to. It just so happens that these tourist attractions have had unfortunate things happen to them."

"Those poor attractions," the brunette murmured in mock sympathy.

After a few more moments of stillness lapsed, Savannah turned in her seat to see Don's face. Curiously, she asked, "Want to play a game?"

"As long as it's not I-spy."

"No, I mean, like a little question time. I ask you, you answer, and then you do the same. It can't be things we've already discussed, and you have the option to pass on a maximum of three questions. Up for it?"

"No, I feel like being a statue today. You think I'm doing a good job so far?"

"You'd make the worst statue Don, you like to try and win arguments too much." Flack caught her eye and smirked, agreeing with her. He preferred to be involved in things too much to ever be still. "Okay, I'll begin. What is the place you'd most want to visit? After NYC of course."

"Italy," Savannah replied immediately. "Can you imagine how much culture is there? And the food! I think I could learn so much from the locals."

Flack chuckled. He had half expected the reason had to do with food.

"Same question for you," said the woman.

"Oh, original. Okay, well, if it'd have to any place I'd like to visit, I think Australia. I think it'd feel really private and quiet compared to New York," the blue eyed man replied. "That, and I can just picture myself relaxing on a beach somewhere and laughing at the accents. All right, what's the worst injury you've ever had?"

"Pass. You?"

"Pass. Are you going to come up with your own to ask me or are you going to be my talking parrot?"

"I will, I was just interested in your own responses. Okay, what was your favourite meal as a kid?"

Don shifted in his seat, memories triggered of when he was young, sitting around the family dinner table, Sam opposite him, his brother Mike on his side, teasing him about his scraped knee as his mother bustled in, a tray full of his favourite. "My mom's corned beef. That stuff should have been hooked up into me via IV line, I wanted it that often." He turned onto fifth avenue and asked, "What's your least favourite food?"

Savannah scrunched her face up in thought before finally deciding. "Kalamata olives. I don't like their flavour. I'm fine with green olives and black olives, but I just don't like the Greek ones."

"Fair enough."

"Favourite actor?"

"Bruce Willis. Die Hard movies are awesome, although I'm also a fan of any guy who does a good action movie," replied Flack. "Okay, this is more personal. You know how you said there were four people where your heart had to heal from their passing? Was your father one of them?"

"Yes," Savannah responded succinctly.

Don took the chance to look over at her and saw her expression close off. "You won't tell me?"

"No, pass. Right now, we're enjoying a nice day out. I don't want to spoil it by talking about heavy and sensitive topics. Even if my father is barely a blip in the radar compared to the other three," the curly haired brunette replied softly. She then shot back with her next question. "What do you think you would have been if you weren't a detective?"

Flack mulled it over before responding, "Well, that's a tricky one. Ever since I was a kid, I looked up to my dad, who was a detective as well. I always wanted to be just like him. There was really nothing else that appealed to me. But if I had to choose…I think I would have liked to be a pro basketball or hockey player – I'm a fan of both sports."

"Nice, nice. Okay, one last one for me."

"It'll have to be, we're almost there." He hesitated, and then decided to go ahead and ask the profound question. " What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Don asked quietly.

Savannah frowned in thought, running a hand through her hair as she tried to decide. "Well, it depends on your own perception of beauty I guess. Some might think beauty as in the beauty of a person, or the beauty of scenery. Me…I think it's a lot of things. There's not just one, really," she said haltingly, chewing her lower lip in her mouth as she considered the question. "The view we just saw, the smile of a person when it's honest and pure…white lilies, clean kitchens, a border collie flying through the air to get his thrown Frisbee…a happy couple dancing on the street under the moonlight to no music save for that in their hearts. The colours of royal purple and sea green. A singer so lost in the lyrics of their song they cried. The moment when I won your trust," Savannah described softly, unaware of the astonished Flack as she decided to list a few more things she found beautiful. "My mother's laugh, my father's red leather bound Spanish diary, people hugging each other. I could go on forever."

"I'm sure you could. I never kinda realised there was so much to appreciate," Don admitted, still amazed at what the brunette had described. Things that many took for granted, she saw as moments of splendour.

Shrugging shyly, Savannah replied, "I have a diary I keep where I value something each day. Those ones just happened to be ones I saw as beauty. We only have one life to live. We have to make the most of it – I lose sight of that at times, believe me. I'm not perfect. I have to work at it."

Flack pulled into the nearest available parking space and looked at Savannah, her green-grey eyes honest and open as she canted her head to the side, meeting his gaze. "What?" she asked softly.

"Sometimes I have to wonder if you're for real."

"I am very real, Don."

"I know that. You've fed me too much to be otherwise," he bantered back, eliciting a soft smile.

"True."

He then tapped on the wheel and opened the door, getting out, his companion following suit. He held the tickets up, his eyes smiling at her. "Okay, let's go into that scary wilderness they call a zoo. Hey, wanna stop by the alligator pool first? Maybe you can show them your wrestling technique."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Never."

"Thought so."

* * *

**A/N: **Hoped you liked this chapter. I wanted to go a little lighter in topic while still revealing how deeply Savannah feels things. I can be like that sometimes. I find the oddest things beautiful. Like a beached little jellyfish, clear and mirror like against the sand. Or a long feather juxtaposed in a dark gutter. Things like that.

I have been feeling a bit down with my assignments and all lately, so I feel like all of me hasn't gone into the chapters. I'd really appreciate the feedback on how you felt about this chapter.

On a happier note, no more assignments for the next two weeks! Yay!


	9. Sick In Need

**A/N: Thank you so much to smuffly, no account person, bjq, Leslie Emm, and Fallen Angel 0601! You guys were amazing for the last chapter. Also, thank you to all of those who have recently put this story on their follow list or favourites list. I love that, and reviews. **I love the song 'Take Care' by Drake. Coming from him, I thought it was a very touching and real song, which served as base for inspiration for this chapter.

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 8 – Sick in Need**

* * *

_I __know you've been hurt by someone else  
I can tell by the way you carry yourself  
If you let me, here's what I'll do  
I'll take care of you_

**Drake – Take Care**

* * *

A week after Savannah's trip to see some of the sights of New York, the Comfort Cafe experienced the slowest day since it opened. It was a chilly rainy day, bucketing down. Unless people had to leave the comfort of their businesses or homes, they preferred not to.

Savannah sat at a bench seat overlooking the sidewalk and road, sipping on hot tea as she watched everything become shrouded in grey. There were only five customers, and Jacks and her best serving girl, Maddie, were taking care of them. She didn't really have anything to do. The kitchen was prepped, everything had been cleaned, and there was little else that needed her attention. She sat up straighter when a familiar head of crazy brown curls came along the sidewalk and turned into her doorway.

"Stella!" Savannah greeted, happy to have someone she recognised enter today.

"Hey Anna," the Grecian woman replied, giving her newfound friend a smile. "Came in to get some sandwiches to go."

"Sure, sure. What do you feel like?"

"Chicken salad and ham cheese tomato. Four of each would be great. It's for the team. I'm lucky to even get here, we've had so many places to investigate today and our case load has been huge," lamented Stella, hanging her coat on the rack and accepting the coffee Anna had quickly made. "Even the PD has been run off their feet. Flack's called in a sick day and he sounds horrible on the phone, but we can't even see him."

Before she went out the back to make the sandwiches, Savannah hesitated and turned back, hearing the anxiety in her friend's voice about Flack. "If you really want someone to just make sure he's okay, I can go."

"No, I don't want to take you away from your business," said Stella.

The darker haired woman laughed. "What business? It's been dead all day today. I can leave the cafe with Jacks and can go if you're worried about him."

Stella considered this. Savannah was trustworthy and was getting along really well with the sarcastically inclined detective. And she and the team _were_ honestly unable to get there, and neither could Flack's detective buddies. It was a crazy busy day and the offer sounded good. She'd rather Savannah checking in on Flack than some receptionist from the Crime Lab – an option she had been considering. Making a decision, Stella pulled out the spare key to Flack's apartment. "Here. This is one of his spare keys. Mac has the other one."

Savannah took it, saying seriously, "I'll keep it safe until I can get it back to you Stell."

She then went out back and quickly made up the sandwiches, packaging them and adding in some zucchini fritters she had made that morning. Reappearing out the front, she asked Stella, "Where does he live?"

Stella told her the apartment location, how to get there, and cautioned her to announce herself. Flack usually had his gun close by no matter where he was.

After the harried CSI left, Savannah leapt into action. She had the perfect culinary choices for a sick person and knew exactly the care package she was going to bring. Instructing Jacks to oversee everything for as long as necessary (and completely missing her cousin's rolled eyes when she mentioned the reason for her departure), the brunette left, toting her bag of goodies behind her, heading for the nearest subway station.

Half an hour later, she stood in front of Flack's apartment building. She had been confident in her cafe, but now she was a little nervous. Their interactions had been limited to her own turf mostly, with the exception of the sightseeing trip. Now she was entering his territory.

She made her way up to the fifth floor and found the apartment door. Knocking, Savannah called out, "Don? It's me, Savannah from the cafe."

Pressing her ear to the door, Savannah heard Flack's voice, but it was muffled and weak.

Worried that something had happened, she dug the key out of her bag and opened the door, announcing, "I'm coming in. I hope you're decent."

Poking her head around the door, she swore her heart stopped when she saw a hand, lax, on the floor in front of the couch. "Don," she murmured, coming fully in and set her belongings down, moving to where the tall man lay. She kneeled by him and was relieved to see that he was alright, save for the indications he was sick. His eyes were half closed and his forehead was burning. A blanket draped off the couch and over his body, showing he tried to get up at some point. His simple jeans and black shirt did nothing to keep him warm.

"Don?" Savannah questioned softly, carefully shaking his shoulder.

"Nnnn…I'm coming to the door," he muttered.

"It's okay, I'm already in," she replied blithely.

The statement seemed to wake Flack up a bit, and he blinked a few times before his eyes opened up wider and he frowned. "How'd you get in here?"

"Stella gave me the key. She told me you were sick and was worried that no one could come and check up on you. Good thing I did," Savannah answered, glad he was at least lucid now. She laid her hand on the sweaty forehead to gauge his fever. "You're too hot. Come on, let's get you up."

"No…comfy here," Flack murmured lazily, his head lolling back on the ground.

"No. Up," Savannah said sternly. She got him turned onto his side and crouched down, throwing his arm around her shoulders. She thanked God she had the foresight to wear jeans today. This would have been awkward otherwise.

Flack felt hazy and heavy, and he didn't want to move, but he tried anyway. With a groan – ignoring the pounding in his head – he managed to hoist himself up with the help of Savannah. He manoeuvred onto his couch with a sense of accomplishment. "Can I _not_ move now?" he asked irritably.

"Yes," the woman replied gently, propping the ill detective up with cushions. "You just stay here while I take care of everything. Did you eat this morning?"

Blue eyes looked up in confusion. "Isn't it this morning still?"

"No Don," murmured Savannah, "it's noon."

"Oh. I haven't eaten, but I took some Panadol," Don replied, blearily rubbing a hand across his eyes and then over his head, making his hair stick up at odd angles. "Ach, I hate being sick just as much as I hate cats. I'm allergic to them you know."

"I know now. You hungry? I bought some chicken soup for you if you're up to it."

"I'll give it a go," he murmured tiredly.

Seeing that this flu was wreaking havoc on the poor detective, Savannah retrieved the soup, warmed it up in his apartment kitchen and sat next to the lethargic Flack. Holding a spoon up, she asked, "Can you manage or can you allow yourself to be fed by this simple cafe owner?"

Flack really wanted to feed himself. He did. But his limbs felt like lead and the thought of trying to down all of that without encouragement was bleak. Swallowing his pride, he shook his head. It was only because it was Savannah that he even allowed himself to be fed. It was her nature for one thing, and he had talked to her about Jess for another. "Fine. I need some help," he said, too drained to put up any real protest.

"Don't worry, I won't do that 'here comes the aeroplane' thing. Unless you want me to," she added cheekily.

"Hell no," Don grimaced.

Pulling over the coffee table, Savannah sat on it and held out the first spoonful. Flack obediently opened his mouth and closed his eyes as the hot liquid registered. His stuffy nose prevented from tasting most of it, but it was warm, and it was tasty. It was all that mattered. The process was repeated, again and again, until the bowl of soup was empty. At the end, Savannah checked his forehead and found that he wasn't as hot to the touch. "I'm just going to see if I can find some Advil or Panadol or something."

"Third top cupboard on the right, second shelf," Don said helpfully.

As she left to search his kitchen, Flack reflected that he had been glad Anna had the initiative to come and see him. From the moment he got up this morning until she came in, he had felt like shit. Because he was in such peak condition most of the time, whenever he got a flu bug or something similar, it always seemed to hit him the hardest and completely debilitate him. He knew that the PD was under a heavy caseload right now, and so he expected to be on his own the whole day. But he had lost track of time in between the sneezes and headaches and fever. Now that she was here, things seemed much better. He was certainly fuller and felt some improvement.

"Got 'em," Savannah announced. She sat next to him on the couch and handled him the glass. "I don't think you'll need help with this one."

Don gave her a look, but he ruined the moment with an explosive sneeze. He quickly took the Advil after that. Exhausted, he flopped back onto the couch. "This sucks," he complained.

"You're sick. Of course it sucks," the brunette replied. "Just try and relax. I'll get you set up so you can spend the rest of the day here." She cleared down the coffee table of all plates and moved away. Next thing Don felt was a cool cloth draped over his forehead. The counteracting temperature made him sigh in relief.

He was only vaguely aware of Savannah as she moved around his apartment. A blanket was draped over him, tissues were set by one hand and a TV remote near the other. He heard the noises of someone moving around plates and cutlery and surmised she must be clearing up after his lunch. He dropped off into sleep without realising it, lulled by the knowledge that she was putting things right.

When he woke next, Flack barely recognised his apartment.

Cleaning fairies must have visited while he was in fever induced dreamland.

Everything had been dusted and wiped down, his various paperwork and magazines had been stacked in order, the floor had been swept and everything looked neater than it ever had in a while. No leftover pizza boxes on top of the shoe rack, no stale sweaty shirts chucked in a corner after work from when he couldn't care after a long day. Nothing of his mess. Pulling the blanket around his shoulders, Flack struggled upright, looking around. A note had been left on his dining table. Every step he made was an achievement, considering earlier he couldn't even get up off the couch without falling to the ground. He made it and picked up the letter left for him.

"_Don. I hope you don't mind I cleaned up, and if you do, I've got a friend who can help you mess it up again. If it feels like I intruded, tell me. I won't be offended. I find your honesty refreshing in a big city like this where lies are rife. _

_Hope you feel better soon. I've left beef stroganoff in the fridge, but I can bring you more food if you call me. _

_Savannah. _

_P.s – don't worry, I gave the key back to Stella. No matter how tempting it was to keep it and annoy you by popping up at random times."_

Don chuckled, imagining Savannah saying that last line. He quickly scanned his apartment, noting that she hadn't gone into his bedroom out of respect, and she hadn't even touched his laundry, but apart from that, she had obviously done a good solid job of tidying up. He was touched by the gesture. He could only imagine that she would do the same for the rest of the CSI's if it had been them she had gone to.

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't resist. Flack had to get sick sometime. It might as well had been now. I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter – having Flack in a vulnerable position that had nothing to do with Jess. I wanted to emphasise the caretaker in Savannah.

As always, your feedback is very much appreciated. If you feel like there is something about my writing I need to improve, tell me. For example, am I going at a good pace? Things like that really help a writer re-evaluate how they are going. Not that I will change my idea, but I might tweak a few things here and there.

**I promise another chapter in the next few days. I will pre-warn you…it's a serious one. **


	10. Past Pain

**A/N: Thank you so much for the inputs of smuffly, FallenAngel0601, no accounter. The fact that your guys still review means a lot to me. **

**Okay, here we go with another heavy chapter. I've touched on a somewhat delicate subject here, so I hope the way I have written it has paid off. I'm happy with the way Don and Savannah act in this chapter, so I hope you will too.**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, descriptions of sex and violence.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 9 – Past Pain**

* * *

_See, here's the bloody, bloody truth  
You will hurt and you will lose  
I've got scars you won't believe  
Wear them proudly on my sleeve_

**P!nk - Run**

* * *

A week later, Flack was better and back on top of his game. Of course, when he had been gone, paperwork had somehow made its way onto his desk in his absence, making the detective wonder who he pissed off to get that large a stack. Because his chief didn't want him to do anything too strenuous, he told Flack to get at least half of the necessary work done before he went gallivanting around looking for witnesses and suspects.

Luckily for Flack, the first exciting call of his day came after that halfway point.

"It's Flack," he answered the ringing of his cell.

"Don? It's Savannah."

"Hey cleaning fairy."

"Haha, you're a genius. Very original. Would you like some information on a guy some nice police officers dropped off some information on?"

"Information?" he questioned.

"While you were still recovering, Officer Priestly came past and gave me some pictures of guys that the PD is looking for as witnesses or suspects in the area," explained Savannah. She quickly looked out through the kitchen door window. "As it so happens, I have one of them right here, right now."

Flack leaned forward in interest. "Who?"

"Harry Gort."

Don's face turned grave. "He's our number one suspect for a murder Anna."

"That's what it said on the fact sheet. So what do you want me to do?"

"Stall him until I get there with some back up. We don't know if he's armed or not, so be careful," the detective warned.

"10-4," farewelled Savannah.

Sensing the thrill of catching up with someone they had been looking for since he had taken ill, Flack moved quickly, strapping on his gun and stuffing his arms into his jacket. He quickly got two uniforms to accompany him just in case things got pear shaped. If luck was with them, it would only take fifteen minutes to get through downtown traffic to the Comfort Cafe.

As he and the other cop car screeched to a stop in front of the cafe, Flack pulled his gun, hoping it wasn't needed. Keeping his gun hand tucked in the folds of his jacket, he and the two officers rushed inside.

As it so happened, he needn't have worried about his gun. Or about the other officers with him.

It was one of the strangest scenes Flack had ever stepped into (and this was New York, where strange things were commonplace) – one where his job was already done for him.

He grinned as he took it all in.

Savannah, caring, cheerful, cheeky Savannah, was sitting on Harry Gort's back, filing her nails nonchalantly. Gort was covered in a nasty mixture of flour and eggs, his hands and feet bound with two differently coloured jump ropes, a wad of napkins serving as an effective gag. He glared venomously at those around him and made noises of protest. Savannah ignored it all, merely calling out instructions to her staff from her position.

Holstering his firearm, the detective made his way through the small crowd of onlookers and stood in front of the spectacle, holding in his laughter.

"Okay…this is new. Is this the way you always stall people?" Don asked, attempting to hide the grin.

Looking up at him, Savannah's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I tried to. But apparently this guy doesn't like to chat. Tried to punch me. And _then_ he tried to leave without paying for his meal. I thought that was enough to warrant this citizen's arrest."

"Do I even want to know how much flour and eggs got on him?" Flack shook his head and crouched down near Harry Gort's face, taking the napkins out of the man's mouth to allow him to speak. "Now, on the run from me and my guys is stupid. Trying to leave this cafe without paying is even more so."

"I'll sue her for false imprisonment," Gort spat.

"Like that's got much chance of sticking. Now let's go cupcake. I think the half-baked look is something that's going to trend in Rikers."

The brunette woman stood to allow Flack to get to Gort. As he wrestled the stringy haired suspect up, he said to Savannah, "I'll get you your ropes back after they've been processed."

"No rush," she reassured.

Gort didn't want to go quietly though. As the tall detective began to drag him away, he cursed, "You bitch. Tattle-tale bitch. Couldn't leave well enough alone."

Savannah stood, arms akimbo and eyes determined, and said, "I'm only doing what any good citizen would do."

Pissed off at her defiance, Gort shouted the one word no man should ever shout at a woman. That dreaded 'c' word. As soon as he shouted it, all sound seemed to be sucked out of the space with all the force of a black hole, it was so silent. Even Don was gobsmacked that Gort would have the guts to even say it in police custody. He was about to shove him up the nearest wall and settle this when Savannah's voice rang out, strong and furious.

"Wait," she snapped, and approached the bound man glaring at her. She approached slowly, cold ire radiating off her tall form. The colour of her irises seemed more grey than green, and there was no trace of her usual jovial nature.

"No one…" Savannah murmured, and then she lunged at Gort and thrust her arm into his neck to silence him. "No one calls me that. EVER," she growled.

The occupants of the cafe watched and waited with bated breath as the woman, shorter than both Flack and Gort, stared the suspect down. "You're lucky you didn't call me that in a dark alley Gort. No man will ever call me that again."

Flack began to pull Gort away, taken aback by the personality change in the dark haired woman who had taken such good care of him. "Let's go," he muttered, passing off the snarling Gort to the unis. He looked back at Savannah, who crossed her arms and stared away from him, shaking her head mutely. He understood. '_Not here_,' it meant.

"Carry on everyone," Don called out, looking to Jacks and mentioning for her to look after her spitfire of a cousin.

The silence broke, and low murmurs cropped up as people gossiped about what had occurred.

And as the detective left, Jacks led an uncharacteristically subdued Savannah away.

* * *

As had become his habit, Flack found himself back at the cafe at the end of the day, but was curious when he didn't see Savannah counting the till, as was her custom. Instead, the shorter form of Jacks was doing the task. Still, he entered. He wanted to talk to his friend.

Jacks noticed him immediately and pointed to the kitchen door. "She's out back if you want to talk to her. She hasn't been herself since the Gort incident."

"Thanks Jacks," said Don, pushing through the door and crossing through the spotless kitchen and to the door that led to the back alley. It was there he found Savannah, her curly wavy hair falling around her face as she leaned her chin on an upraised knee, sitting desolately on a milk crate. She tilted her head to the side to glance at him briefly, but said nothing.

"Gee, I'm not important enough to get a hello anymore?" Flack asked in mock-indignation.

It worked in getting the dark haired woman to smirk a little and to greet him with a, "Howdy sheriff."

Lowering himself to a crouch, the detective said, "I just wanted to let you know that nothing is going to come up about the fact you trussed Gort up like a thanksgiving turkey and made him mimic a pastry. Also, nothing about your little dominance display on Gort about…that word. Although I thought you were a bit justified, Gort was kicking up a stink about it."

"Great," Savannah replied unenthusiastically.

Flack frowned and canted his head to the side. "Did that word really affect you that much?"

"Drug up bad memories," she supplied cryptically. "And unless you want to go through another saga of the Cormier sob story, no, I don't really want to explain."

"What if I _wanted_ to hear more of that story?" challenged the off-duty detective.

Savannah brushed her hair out of her face to get a good reading on the man in front of her. As always, he was sincere. But she couldn't help but think that he would think she was pathetic if she told him about yet another part of her life she wasn't proud of. "Would you really?"

"Yes," replied Don.

"This isn't some sort of guilty conscience wanting to make us even after you were sick?" asked the shorter woman sceptically.

"What do you take me for? An idiot? No, nothing like that. I'm curious. Your actions spoke of some pretty good self-defence skills you must have, and I kinda wanted to know how and why you learned them," answered Flack. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "I don't want to push you."

Savannah swore those blue eyes should be listed as compelling weapons. "If you stick around, you can follow Jacks and I home."

"All right."

* * *

Flack followed the cousins in Jacks' car which she shared with her mother, Savannah's Aunt Emilie. Turns out that they lived in a well maintained five storey building owned by Aunt Emilie, and they shared the two apartments on the ground floor.

As they entered her apartment, Flack instantly knew that the place was an extension of Savannah herself.

The walls were a warm white with colour accents brought in through furniture and artwork. A large painting of a purple and green flower hung above a soft grey couch covered with a jewel toned purple throw. This kitchen looked new and like a cook's dream. The bench was made of some kind of pale wood and looked fantastic against the white cabinetry. The table was the same light wood as the benches, with a purple candle as the centrepiece. A bright red light pendant hung above the table to bring extra brightness and intimate warmth.

"Nice place," Flack observed, scanning the area.

"Thanks. It's a haven for me to come home to after a tiring day," said Savannah, smiling fondly at her apartment.

She beckoned him in. "The coat rack is there. Just make yourself comfortable anywhere, I'm not fussed." Seeing Don peer around at everything, she smirked. "Satisfy your detective nosiness. You can have a poke around if you like while I get us a drink. Juice?"

"Yeah, sure." Taking the invitation he had been given, Flack went down the hallway that led to a bathroom and two bedrooms. One was used for an office with a sofa bed in the corner, while the other was obviously Savannah's bedroom. The king bed was the star of the room, covered in a teal and silver patterned coverlet and with pillows in matching colours. Like the rest of the apartment, the walls were a warm white, but were decorated with artworks and shelves holding books and mementos.

It was a room that spoke of true tranquillity.

Satisfied, he went back out and sat on the comfy couch. He made a low noise of appreciation as he stretched back in it. "Yeah, this is nice. Your couch is even better than mine."

"Aunt Emilie split half the price for me as a welcome to NYC gift," informed Savannah. "So I went for a better quality one than I would have usually gotten."

"No wonder. I know whose place I would want to crash at if my place went up in flames," Don quipped.

"Uh-oh, I'm doomed," joked Savannah, returning with their drinks. She set them down on her coffee table and settled herself on the brown wicker armchair adjacent to the couch. "Before we begin part two of my emotional past, are you hungry? I've got leftovers if you feel like it."

"I'm fine, Savannah. We can do food later if necessary. You got me here under mystery, so I want to know first. Your behaviour today was abnormal, I want to know why."

"I have to ask you again Don…are you sure? I'm sure you hear a lot of this kind of thing at work and all."

Seeing the insecurity made the detective more determined to support her than ever. He nodded. "Surer and more serious than a heart attack."

Savannah was half hoping that he would hesitate at the last moment and say 'no,' but he didn't. Besides, deep down, she knew this story had to be shared. Without a word, she reached up and began undoing the buttons of her shirt. When she got the second button undone, Flack looked weirded out.

"Uh…this doesn't look to be much of a story," he commented, his eyes flicking between Savannah's face and the skin of her décolletage revealed.

"It will be in a moment. I'm not trying to get fresh with you," she murmured. Leaving it at the third button, she pulled the shirt to the right, showing a ragged scar. It was about an inch long, but it was at least a few years old. "That was from a pocketknife." Then, feeling the detective's eyes searing into her skin from the force of his stare, she turned her back to him and let the shirt drop a little. Seven inches down from the base of her neck, just off to the right of her spine, was another scar. This one was crescent shaped and at least four inches long, leaving a patch of skin discoloured, slightly darker than the shade surrounding it. "That was from a baseball bat."

"Who did this to you?" asked Don quietly, but Savannah could tell from his tone that he hated seeing the scars.

"Parting gift from my second and last boyfriend, now my ex," she told, her tone equally as soft. "Jake Wallace."

"Did he get caught?"

"No, he ran. But prior to this…incident, he seemed like a regular guy. My instincts were so off on him," admitted Savannah. She did up her shirt again, but noticed her friend was still staring at the spots where they were. "This happened about four years ago."

"Tell me." The words were soft, almost plea like, but they held the ring of demand in them.

Sifting through memories of a certain part of dark time in her life, Savannah begun her tale.

"We met at a bar, nothing out of the ordinary. We hit it off pretty much right away. It was practically a textbook romance. And like a textbook tragedy, everything changed." Her voice went lower, almost monotonic, as she told Flack about Jake. It was like she was in a dissociated state, lost in memory. "He no longer took me out to dinner or did anything romantic. He kept pressuring for us to live together so I could be his 'perfect partner.' More often than not, he was angry that I wouldn't. So a few days after I rejected the twentieth proposal for us to move in, he comes to see me. Acts all sweet, and so I'm thinking, 'this is the old Jake. He's back. What happened was just a phase.' But I was wrong."

A lone tear fell from the corner of her eye. Her voice choked up with emotion as she repeated, "I was so wrong."

"That night, right before we were fully into sex, he tells me to flip onto my stomach. When I asked why, he said he wanted to take me from behind and in my…"

"Door number two," Flack supplied as an alternative.

Savannah had the grace to blush. "Yeah, well, there. I refused. He begged me. I still said no, I didn't even want to think about that. After the fifth time I denied him, he got angry. I didn't even see his fist coming before he clocked me out cold."

Blowing out a breath to keep from degrading into hysteria at the memory of the fear she felt, Savannah fiddled with her purple throw as a focus point and made sure not to look at the detective sitting rigidly on her couch. She refused to cry any more than one tear. "When I woke, the pocketknife was already embedded in my skin. I don't really recall what happened next. At the time, I was just too scared. Jake wasn't in the room. So I made a break for it – I think he underestimated how long I would be out for. I almost made it too, but he got me just before I escaped. The baseball bat got me on the ground. He hit me a few times with it and then yanked the knife out of my shoulder. He kept screaming that word at me. That was the clearest moment: when he was calling me a 'c'. Here's where it gets hazy. I can't remember the other injuries he caused, but I remember having the strength to smash his balls up to his throat. It gave me just enough time to get out of the house and run to the local police station in nothing but my jeans and bra."

"When the cops got to the house, Jake was gone. He took his weapons and got the hell out of dodge. I haven't seen him since," she finished off, finally looking up at Don who had his cop face on. "And they didn't catch him." Savannah said, "You know the why I got those skills. How is easier to answer. A week after my attack I started taking a women's self-defence class at the local PCYC. I felt much safer when I participated. I refuse to be a doormat."

Flack brought his hand up to his mouth, leaning into it and saying nothing, but staring at Savannah. "Whatever I was expecting you to tell me, it wasn't that," he said after a short silence.

"Much like how the story of my mother was."

"Yeah." He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. "And explains why Stella is so comfortable around you. You knew the signs." Sighing, he said, "You know what gets me Savannah? How much you work at it to be happy. To serve others, to try and make them feel good about themselves."

"I'd go nuts otherwise," joked the brunette weakly. "There's only so much time one can spend on themselves, I think."

"Not if you saw some of the cases I had. Some people were so vain it disgusted me," replied the detective.

Savannah worried her lower lip between her teeth before asking shyly, "Could you tell me something about any memorable cases? It doesn't have to be a big case, just something memorable."

Flack smiled. "The question is where do I begin on that one?"

He only acquiesced to switch topics because he saw the tactic for what it was. Diverting the topic from Savannah's past to something less emotionally potent. He could roll with that. He did that when thinking about Jess. Grief still hit him hard and unexpectedly, so he guessed the same would be for the spitfire of a cafe owner sitting there. He momentarily wondered what tragic story awaited him when Savannah told him about her friends.

"Start anywhere," she encouraged.

"Well, there was this case where three uni students robbed a bank. The genius of the plan was that they were all dressed up like Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany's…"

The night passed as their familiar friendly chatter resumed. Flack passed on anecdotes of cases while Savannah shared incidents of her less than successful cooking attempts. Equilibrium restored, Flack left that night with the promise of furthering Savannah's self defence skills.

He wanted to help her ensure she would never be a victim again.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, there won't be too many 'revelations' about Savannah until a bit later in the story about her friends Amber and James. In the next few chapters, there will still be elements of drama, but the tone will be slightly lighter than this chapter.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. I really want to know what you all felt about this chapter, as it was a particularly challenging one.

Next update should be in about two days time. See you all then!


	11. Bar Meetings

**A/N: Thank you so much to smuffly, FallenAngel0601, Leslie Emm, and no accounter for your wonderful feedback! I'm glad to see you guys are enjoying it. And thank you too, to all who continue to read this story, and those who favourite and alert it. Oh, just another note, I have no clue where more things are in Manhattan, so when I mention street places and names of places, I'm using creative licence.**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm…Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 10 – Bar Meetings**

* * *

_'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know  
Just how capable I am to pull through  
So I wanna say thank you  
'Cause it: _

_Makes me that much stronger  
Makes me work a little bit harder  
It makes me that much wiser  
So thanks for making me a fighter_

**Christina Aguilera – Fighter **

* * *

True to his word, Flack organised a self-defence session with him and an ex-cop at the nearest gym to the precinct for Savannah. Making a time, the cafe owner let Jacks open up without her as she made her way downtown to meet Flack. When she got closer to the police department, she waved to officers and detectives that she recognised from when they ventured to her cafe.

Standing in the doorway of the station was Flack in loose fitting gym pants and a sweatshirt, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He looked her over and approved of her gear which mimicked his own.

"You ready slugger?" he asked.

"No, I'm just here for the buff men," she replied with a wink.

"I knew you were using me for something," Don smirked.

"I wasn't talking about you," Savannah said, poking him in the side and watching him jump.

"Ouch, I'm hurt and in more ways in one," the tall man whined, making the brunette roll her eyes.

"That was barely a poke, it was more like a tickle," she pointed out.

Flack dramatically threw out his arm and proclaimed, "How you have wounded me!"

"I'll poke harder if we don't get a move on. I'm really looking forward to this. I needed to do something for my fitness apart from a walk around the block every morning in addition to work," said Savannah, reaching out and tugging insistently on Flack's arm. He relented, leading her down the street to the local gym, saying, "This is one of the best places around. Most of the guys and girls from my precinct come here so it's safe and the owner is pretty picky about who he lets in here."

"Are these self-defence classes regular?"

"Yeah, Monty does 'em three or four times a week depending on how well his knee is feeling. He's only 35, so he's still got plenty of life in him. The only reason why he's not on city payroll as a detective anymore is because during a shootout over drugs a bullet took out a kneecap. He retired and instead decided to teach self defence," Flack explained. He mentioned with his head a set of steps and they went up them. At the top of the stairs was a sign with the words 'Cannon's Gym.' As they entered, the familiar gym smell of sweat hit them, but it wasn't too strong. The place was well lit and clean. Savannah could see why the PD would choose this place.

A man at the front counter looked up and smiled. "Yo, Flack. Monty's down at the back waiting for you two."

"Thanks Chester," replied Flack, raising his hand in a wave.

"Owner?" asked Savannah.

"Yep. Chester Cannon."

"Is that a stage name or his real name?"

"His real one," chuckled Flack. "He got really lucky as far as putting your name to a gym went."

A new voice called to them. "About time you guys got here! I thought I'd aged ten years in the time waiting."

Flack saw Monty and then checked the clock on the wall. "They should make a new movie. The Curious Case of Monty, the man who aged ten years in one minute."

Monty smiled and threw a towel at the taller man. "You are no fun." His eyes flicked to Savannah. "Ah, a new student. Where'd you find this one Flack?"

"Wrestling an alligator. I told her you'd be easier to take down," Don deadpanned. A friendly punch from the woman next to him made him crack a smirk. "See what I mean?" he asked.

Savannah chuckled and moved toward Monty, extending a hand. "Hi. Savannah Cormier, although you can call me Anna if you like. This jester," she pointed to the blue-eyed detective, "thought it'd be a good idea if I got into the hang of self-defence again and thought you were the perfect guy to teach me."

"Again? You have some skills already?" asked Monty, raising an eyebrow in question.

Savannah shrugged. "A little."

Monty rubbed his chin. "All right. I want both of you to warm up on the treadmills for ten minutes and then we'll see what you can do."

The two did as he asked, both starting up the standard jogging pace. At the end of the warm up, Flack looked over at Savannah and saw that strands of hair were escaping from her high ponytail and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. She looked a little irritable and he could easily guess why. Most women hated running. The brunette saw him looking and she shut off her treadmill. "Wipe that grin off your face. I can't help it."

"That you don't like running?"

"That my face looks like a beetroot. Jogging I don't mind, it's what exercise does to my face," she explained, re-doing her hairstyle to keep the stray curly hairs out of her face.

That was a surprise to Don. She was more concerned about her flushed cheeks than the running.

Huh.

They made their way over to Monty. He beckoned Savannah over and said to her, "This is how the sessions will run if you choose to continue. You'll warm up, demonstrate what you've learned on me, and then we'll go through the bulk of the work with a partner, who happens to be Flack this time. All in all, an hour."

"Sounds good to me," agreed the woman.

Monty smiled and moved to the centre of the mat allocated for them. "Time to show me what you've got. Come at me."

Savannah looked a little uncertain. "What, just come at you?"

"Just show me what you learned before."

"Well, before, I defended, not attacked," replied Savannah.

"Good answer. You just passed the first test," Monty said with a grin. "It's what most people forget. This is for defence, not attacking another person." He then leapt forward, tackling an unaware Savannah to the mat. Her eyes widened as she realised what was going to happen and rolled with the motion, using her hips to twist out from under him and bounce up.

"Nice improv," praised Monty. He then lumbered towards her, fists clenched. As the first swing came, she ducked and dodged as the second came at her. She paused for a second too long and she was pushed into the ground, Monty following and placing his arm over her throat. She struggled, but he mentioned for her to stop. "I got you that time. Start again."

They got up from their positions and Savannah caught a glimpse of Don's watchful blue eyes, scrutinising her movements.

And so it continued, Savannah recalling all she learned. Try and block everything, using both arms raised to take the brunt of the force and making sure to keep moving. Although at times she flinched when Monty did an unexpected move, she felt that she was holding her own. Monty only managed to fully 'get' her another two times. She was starting to get tired trying to figure out his next move. He was starting to push her harder, and there was more force behind everything he did. Somehow, he got behind her and wrapped an arm around her in a headlock, pushing her towards the ground.

She knew Monty didn't mean to, but she was reminded of Wallace putting her in the same position. She struggled harder.

"Yield," Monty demanded softly.

A ferocious snarl erupted from her lips. "Screw you," she spat, getting enough leverage to twist around and head-butt him. As Monty reeled back, she lashed out with her foot and caught him right in the family jewels.

Flack laughed openly as Monty released a high-pitched squeal, dropping back and cupping the tender spot.

Savannah instantly realised what she did and dropped to the ground next to him, not knowing whether to giggle or be mortified. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry about that. I was kinda caught up in the moment," she apologised.

"Jeez lassie, you got a hell of a kick," Monty groaned, teeth gritted, forehead scrunched up in pain.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Stem your apologies. I shoulda worn a cup," the ex-cop said, trying to assure his new student. "If that was a real situation, your instincts told you the right path to take to get out of that. It was a great move…even if my balls don't appreciate it right now."

A grinning Flack made his way over to them with a pack of ice he had retrieved from Chester. "Better you than me, Monty."

"Yuk it up junior, you're her partner in this."

"At least I had the sense to bring a cup to protect my boys," Don replied with a cheeky smile. He winked at Savannah who blushed, a little embarrassed that she had 'incapacitated' her instructor – and the fact that Don felt the need to protect his bits from her. She smiled back at him all the same.

Monty applied the pack of ice, sighing in relief. "Ah, better." He turned to Savannah and murmured, "Whatever you thought I was doing to you…someone did that to you, and that's why you feel the need to have these sessions, right?"

Savannah's smile turned into a frown. "How'd you guess?"

"I've given too many classes to women who feel the need for self-defence because of a certain set of circumstances not to notice the signs. One you exhibit is a classic. You're nice and sweet, but under pressure like that, you explode because it reminds you of the loss of control," informed Monty knowingly. He reached out and patted her arm. "Whatever it is, it's nothing to be ashamed of, especially in here. I'm here to help you." He then looked up at a still smiling Flack. "I'm thinking gun range for her too."

"I was considering it."

"Gun range?" asked Savannah, looking between the two men.

Don shrugged. "I thought we could get you comfortable with a gun. Just in case."

"You want to trust me with a gun?" she asked disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know what horror I'd be releasing on New York," he joked.

Flack seriously thought it was a good idea. Not only would it be good for Savannah to be able to defend her cafe in the case of a robbery – people like Wallace might disappear, but they come back eventually, and at the most inopportune of times. He knew that from situations he had worked as a detective. He couldn't help but feel protective of the woman before him. Her character was like no other he had ever witnessed, and there was something quintessentially good about her. He wanted her to be familiar enough with a gun so if she was in a seemingly hopeless situation, she'd know enough to get out of it.

"I'll follow your lead then Obi-Wan," Savannah said.

"Then come, young Skywalker, to the learning part of today's ceremonies," Don replied in the most serious voice he could manage.

"You are both hilarious, but come on now. Star Wars jokes? Too early," complained Monty good naturedly.

Savannah replied, "It's never too early for a Star Wars analogy, pun, or joke."

They ended it there when Monty threw up his hands and mentioned the two to stand side by side. He began to instruct them through basic moves, with Flack being the 'attacker' and Savannah defending herself. They worked through each move in slow motion at first to get Savannah used to the feel of the action and also to allow Flack and Savannah to get familiar with each other. They had rarely touched except for in emotional times to comfort or just a simple pat on the back while at the cafe, so it was new for both of them. Savannah couldn't help but be attracted to the handsome detective and so every time his skin touched hers, she felt it intensely. She didn't let it show, being professional and focused at all times.

Don, on the other hand, was proud of his friend. She was taking all that he threw her into in her stride and that fire that she had displayed at the cafe when Gort was arrested was at the forefront of each action, which impressed him. She was handling herself really well, and became more determined with each attack/defence phase they worked on. They sped up the actions a bit more, working on fluidity of the defence.

They didn't have time to go further, as the hour was up and both cafe owner and detective had to get to work.

Savannah promised Monty that she would be back next week and looked forward to the next session. The pair did their goodbyes and left for their different lives.

* * *

**Savannah POV**

I was surprised that I had as much energy as I did after this morning's self-defence training session with Monty and Don to get through work today. I thought Flack had been joking when he said something about getting more training for me just in case Wallace came back to darken my life. Although I seriously doubt that will happen, I thought it was a really sweet gesture.

Don's an interesting character. He's that typical, sarcastic NYC cop, but he's also the vulnerable, charming man who I can tell has been brought up right. It's rare to find a man like that.

I may not have known him very long – I'd be lying if I said more than three months, but I'm attracted to him. I think I've been attracted to him since our second introduction and getting to know each other through his frequent visits to my cafe. I'd be shallow if I said it's only his physical attributes, and while that's a sweetener on the package he is, it's who he is I'm drawn to. He's protective of those he's close to, doggedly determined when he thinks he's onto something, and he truly believes in the police motto to protect and serve. It's a part of him just as food and cooking is a big part of me and what I do.

His inner strength is incredible. He is made of some of the sternest stuff a person can be made of. He sees God knows what depravity each day with each crime he has to investigate and yet he can still crack a smart ass quip or joke. He still looks out for his friends.

I pause in my counting of today's till and sigh. There I go again, forgetting how much I've counted by thinking about Don.

His eyes are imprinted into my mind, I'm sure of it.

"Oh Lordy, I've got it bad," I mumble to myself. I'm falling for this wonderful guy…who happens to be the most unavailable person in the world.

His grief is still raw and I recognise it in me. My own is also raw and all too close to the surface.

Yet I knew I could trust him as soon as he saw fit to trust me.

I knew after my friends passing that I could have easily have slipped into a downward spiral that began with depression and could have only gotten worse from there. So I worked hard to be my usual cheery self when I got to NYC. I can find it easier each day now with my thriving business, my food, and my cafe 'family' of CSI's and detectives, and I know a big part of that is meeting Don. I am so fortunate to be here, alive, and happy, that I can't help but want to share it by improving the quality of life for others through food and laughter.

After what feels like forever, I finish counting the till and lock up. Jacks is already gone – I gave her the afternoon off in thanks for opening up by herself this morning. She is, after all, the most amazing cousin in the whole wide world.

I'm about to call a cab when my phone chirrups. I pull it out and glance at the screen.

I must be pathetic if my heart leaps when Don's name shows up.

"Miss me already?" I ask with a smile as I answer.

"Just your food," he replied, and I could hear his smirk through the phone.

"I knew you were using me for something." I throw his words from earlier today back at him, and I hear him chuckle lowly.

"All joking aside, I have a favour to ask you."

"Favour? It might cost you," I tease.

"As long it's legal, whatever I can do in return for you I'll do," Flack affirmed.

"Okay, shoot."

I hear him clear his throat and I pick up on other sounds in the background. Male voices. He must still be at the PD. "Some of the guys are going out to Sullivan's tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to come along to watch out for me…just in case I have one of my bad days."

I know it takes a lot for him to admit that there's a possibility of him slipping into grief, so I reply, "No worries, I had no plans tonight anyway. When and where?"

"It's on East 55th and 3rd. And as soon as possible, we're about to clock off and head there right now."

No matter that I'd probably need a cab to get there, I was in my work clothes. Looking down at my simple black skirt and button-up, I warned him, "I've got bits of pancake batter on my skirt and I'm pretty sure I've got a smear of chocolate on the collar of my shirt. Will you mind if I show up like this?"

"Anna, I'm pretty sure that covered in flour and smelling of chocolate that you'd still be more hygienic than at least a half of the guys in the bar. And prettier too."

I redden madly at the backhanded compliment. I still come back with my own retort. "Only half?"

"Nice save on that one. I could hear you blush in that silence."

"You still want me to come there or not?"

"Please," he said, more seriously than before.

"All right. See you there. You're buying for me. That's the favour you have to fulfil."

"Too easy. See you soon Anna." And then he hung up.

I placed my phone back in my bag and hailed a taxi. I smiled, excited. I was going to have another opportunity to just hang out with Don without my work or his in the way. And in that moment, I couldn't care less what I looked like, because I was going to support my friend.

When I got to Sullivan's, I noticed it looked like your typical bar. I glimpsed Don and some of his detective buddies through the window and so I headed in.

Like he sensed me, Don turned around, his blue eyes holding mine, as I entered. He nodded in greeting and beckoned me over his way. Picking my way through the gathering crowd, I heard his voice announce, "Here she is! Guys, you know Savannah from Comfort Cafe."

I recognised Detectives Ollie, Graham and Officer Mitchell all crowded around Flack's table, along with Danny Messer. I smiled and waved in greeting as they called out things like, "What, no cookies?" and "Nice to see you outside of work Anna."

Don mentioned to the chair between him and Danny, and I sat. I noticed the water in my space, in comparison to the beers all the guys had. "What, you don't think I can drink beer?" I challenged the table, pushing the water to the centre of the table. "This is a bar after all, isn't it?"

"Whoa, we got a girl who can drink beer!" Danny crowed. I rolled my eyes and headed for the bar, grabbing my drink of choice and heading back to the table. I quickly surveyed all the detectives. They all had one bottle each in front of them, but Don's had been drunk far less than the others. He's being cautious. He shouldn't have to be, but it's an ugly truth. They're deep in conversation and so I sit there and absorb it all. Flack and Danny are by far the funniest of the lot, and soon they have me in stiches from the wise cracks and jokes.

"Oi, Flack, remember when you were canvassing this building for witnesses and this fat guy opened up, and you just said, 'Never mind, have a good night sir.' Funniest thing," Ollie chortled.

"Why was it?" I asked, not comprehending the funny bit.

"The guy was fat, had long hair with a bald pate, big glasses, and the only thing he was wearing were saggy white y-fronts. I think I was scarred for life," Flack said, cringing at the reminder. "He just stared at me and scratched his chest like a hairy baboon."

We all laughed at the description, even drawing out a rueful grin from Flack himself.

"I had worse," piped up Detective Graham, "I had to go to a suspect's house and it turned out he lived with his gran. Said gran liked to go around the house in nothing but her birthday suit. There was nothing but wrinkles and sags I swear. She opened the door starkers, and I couldn't go to my Grandma's house for a month afterwards."

"Eww," the table chorused.

Time passed, and I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would. Of course, I wasn't privy to some of the inside jokes and so I was a bit behind the ball, but the guys took the time to explain it to me.

We were just discussing the most embarrassing moments we had in our school years when the familiar strains of one of my favourite songs played from the speakers. I smiled, lost in the music, unknowingly bouncing in time in my seat.

"Got a thing for the Jacksons?" a low voice asked me.

"Just this song," I replied with a smile, singing along, "_Don't blame it on the sunshine, don't blame it on the moonlight, don't blame it on the good times…Blame it on the boogie."_

"Cafe owner, agony aunt, and karaoke queen too?" asked Don, his eyes glimmering with laughter.

"Two out of three. I just like to sing," I said honestly.

"Well you can hold a tune at least," Danny said from my other side. "It gets a little scary when Adam starts to sing to himself in the lab. I wonder if I'm in some slasher thriller."

"Oi, that's mean," I protest.

"No, it's the truth," the shorter detective replied and took a sip of his beer. "I'd take you over Adam any day, God bless his little lab rat socks. So what other stuff do you like?"

I shrug. I like a bit of everything, it just has to be good music, and I tell him so. "I'm eclectic. I like a lot of the 80's rock and some of the pop stuff, and I'm a huge fan of Maroon 5, but I'm also into random things like tango music and Frank Sinatra."

"_Luck, be a lady tonight,"_ Don sang lowly from beside me.

"One of my favourites. You're pretty good yourself Flack."

"Nah, I'm not a singer. Unless I get about ten beers in me, and then I start belting them out," he admitted with reddened ears. "I did that on my graduation to First-Class Detective. The precinct wouldn't let me live it down for about a month."

"The song you sang couldn't have been that embarrassing."

"Oh it was," piped up Danny with fiendish glee. "He was singin' 'Sledgehammer' by Peter Gabriel. And then he sung 'Cherry Pie' by Warrant."

"Oh God!" I laughed, clutching at my stomach as the rest of the table howled in laughter. The mental image that flickers in front of my mind sets me off into another lot of giggles. Meanwhile, Don's ears get redder and redder. "Oh that's gold!" I exclaim, and my cheeks are sore from my grin, but in seeing the taller man's awkwardness, I pointed out the positives. "At least you weren't singing something really ridiculous like 'Barbie Girl.' Or what's that other one? Where's it's like, 'and all the girls say I'm pretty fly for a white guy?'"

The table burst into laughs and jokes at that, and Flack widened his eyes, seeing my point.

"Flack's pretty fly for a white guy, haha," Danny sniggered. "That would have been so much more fun to tease you about Don."

"Remember Messer, the wealth of blackmail material that I have on you," warned Flack, blue eyes gleaming with impending mischief.

"I can add to that if you like," I say sweetly. One look at Danny and he knows what I mean, for his smile falls.

"You wouldn't do that to me Anna, would ya? C'mon, I'm your favourite CSI," he pleads.

"I don't have a favourite. And do what to you? Like, tell everyone of the time you ate one of my triple chocolate cookies and moaned like a girl all the way through it? I think I had to get you a serving tray to put in front of your jeans to get you out of the place without anyone noticing." As I reveal my biggest piece of blackmail, the rest of the men jeer and tease the Italian, who groaned in mortification.

"I am so gonna get you back for that Cormier," Danny muttered underneath his breath.

"Not on my watch," Flack said, defending me with a massive smile. "That story just made my night."

Flack winks at me and I grin back at him. The night winds up soon after that, the guys saying that I could join them anytime I liked. Danny promised revenge playfully, before clapping me and Don on the shoulders and farewelling us for the night. Soon it's just the two of us hanging outside the bar. For a moment, girlish insecurity flits along the border of my mind before I push it away. Insecure is something I've promised myself never to be often.

"How're you feeling?" I ask.

Flack smiles into my eyes and I think my heart melts. They're warm and thankful. "I'm glad you came. I didn't feel the need to drink away my sorrows, which is always a plus. That, and I think knowing that you knew about Jess and were ready to steer me in another direction really kept my mind off of the bad things, you know?"

"I know. I'm glad you called me."

"I didn't ruin anything you had planned?" he asks, earnestly.

I reach out and touch his arm. "I told you before, I had nothing planned apart from warm fluffy jammies and probably some chick flick on the TV. I'd rather do this. All I have here is the cafe really, so to make some friends is, as you say, a plus."

He tilts his head to the side in that way like he's picked up on something. "Don't you have friends from the cafe or back in Virginia?"

"No. I kind of lost contact in preparations to move here, and the few friends I had didn't obviously think I was worth the effort once I got here. I tried calling one of them the other week, and they were too busy with 'their new business merger,' and that's when I got the point. I'm far from them and they don't have time to maintain a long distance friendship," I reply plainly, telling a half-truth. It's true that my old friends didn't think I was worth it, but for completely different reasons.

"Now why would they do such a stupid thing like that to lose such an amazing person such as you?"

I know my cheeks flush in the cool night air. "Flatterer," I accuse, and am rewarded with a dimpled grin.

"Of course doll," he drawls.

"Oh that's terrible. More terrible than Sledgehammer, I bet."

He sighs and looks at me with exasperation. "You're not going to let up on that for a while, are you?"

"Nope! You have the alligator thing for me, after all," I reply cheerfully. "Watch out…I just might start singing it each time you come in."

He shakes his head, but he's smiling.

And that's all that matters.

* * *

**A/N: Again, a ridiculously hard chapter for me. I wasn't happy with anything I did with it. I kept deleting and writing, deleting and re-writing. I'm still not completely right with it, but I feel like this is the way it has to be. **

**I hope I haven't made Savannah come across as too love-struck. If I have, let me know. Your feedback means a lot to me. **

**On another note, who can guess the episode of CSI NY that I describe the man who greets Flack at the door? The fat bloke?**


	12. CSI Ladies Plot

**A/N: OH MY GOSH GUYS! Over 50 reviews for the fic! It's amazing efforts from you all, and a record best on the review count for a single chapter with 7 :D As you can tell, I'm really stoked by this. So thank you to smuffly, no accounter, bjq, FallenAngel0601, Leslie Emm, Kayla, and Annabella Colt for your amazing and insightful reviews. In answer to the question, the episode I referenced last chapter was season 2's 'Bad Beat.' Congrats to smuffly who was quick on the draw with that one. On to fic!**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend - Chapter 11 – CSI Ladies Plot**

* * *

_The best thing about being a woman  
Is the prerogative to have a little fun (fun, fun)_

**Shania Twain – Man! I Feel Like a Woman!**

* * *

It's early morning, almost too early to be legal in Don Flack's book. But he couldn't sleep, even after the late night he had with his buddies and Savannah.

He stood out on his balcony overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge, a small smile working its way onto his face. He had a great time last night. He hadn't really been out with anyone unless it was the CSI team since Jess's death. He had never really felt like it and he knew the temptation of drink was there. If his downward spiral after Jess's passing taught him one thing, it was that he knew what it felt for his sister Sam to love looking into the bottom of the bottle for all of life's solutions.

Not once last night had he felt the need to have more than one beer.

And any thought about Jess had been bittersweet, instead of just bitter.

He took that to mean that Savannah was right. He was slowly healing.

"She's a hell of a woman," Flack muttered to himself.

Not only did she come to the bar straight from work, she had done so with confidence, seemingly undaunted by the multitude of testosterone around her. She hadn't seemed to notice the way Officer Mitchell had been ogling her. Last night she had been one of the guys. Taking everything in stride, holding her own with jokes and comebacks like none other he had seen.

And then she had got Danny good. Chuckling in remembrance of his friend's humiliation, Don made a note to make sure Savannah couldn't get any blackmail material from him.

Walking back inside his apartment, he paused by the picture of Jess on his bureau. Gently stroking along the edge of the frame, Don murmured, "You two would have been great friends. And you would have ganged up on me." He was sure of it. They were alike in some ways, but different in others. One key thing they had in common was their attitude towards food – both knew how to eat and weren't fussy about every single morsel they put in their mouth.

Sighing, Flack turned away from the picture. He couldn't wallow in misery any more. If Mac and Savannah were any example, he would work hard at making sure most days were good days.

* * *

It was mid-morning, and since the breakfast rush was mostly over, Savannah was taking the chance to do some baking. She had a blueberry friand baking in the oven already and a chocolate fudge cake on a cooling rack while she worked on pastry for Portuguese tarts. She was almost done when Jacks came out the back and said to her, "Hey Anna, those CSI ladies are here. Wanna say hey?"

"I'll be out there in a minute. I'm almost done with the pastry," she replied, kneading out the dough. She glanced at her cousin and asked, "What have they ordered?"

"Their usual coffees and a chocolate brownie to share."

"Ah ah ah," muttered the fairer skinned brunette in disapproval. "You'll take them that over my dead body. I'll give them small slices of the fresh chocolate cake instead. Let them know I'll be out soon."

As Jacks went off to do her bidding, Savannah finished off, storing everything as needed and instructing her other cook to look after the orders until she came back. Carefully cutting the still warm cake, she served them up with a dab of whipped cream for each. Carrying them out, she smiled welcomingly at Stella and Lindsay. "Morning girls!" she greeted cheerily.

"Morning. I'm surprised you're still up and at 'em after your late night," Lindsay commented in return.

"Danny told you I tagged along?"

"Yeah. I heard Flack invited you," Lindsay probed.

Placing the plates of cake in front of them, Savannah shrugged nonchalantly as possible. "Yeah, he did. And as for me being all smiles, I've always been a morning person. You watch, by five I'll be more short with people – Jacks'll probably order me to the kitchen for house arrest."

The CSI's diverted from the conversation to pay attention to the sweet presented to them. "Oh Anna, you shouldn't have," Stella said with a smile.

"I did. Eat up while it's still warm. I can spend a minute or two if you want me to stay," the cafe owner offered.

"Please," Stella and Lindsay chorused, chuckling a little at the simultaneous responses. As Savannah sat, the two CSI's took their bites of their cake. Lindsay sighed happily while Stella said, "Oh this is so sinful. It should be illegal to have cake as amazing as this. I want this for my next party."

"Sure thing, whatever you want, just tell me when. I'd be too happy to do it," the cafe owner said emphatically.

"I call it first," Lindsay said enthusiastically. "Lucy's first birthday is coming up soon. This cake would be perfect."

"I'd have to make two though, Danny would hork down the first one all by himself," Savannah joked.

"He'd be helped by Flack. Those two have a sweet tooth like no other," the smaller woman bantered. They all chuckled at that. Stella finished her cake first and turned to Savannah. "So what was it like last night at Sullivan's?"

"Yeah good," replied Savannah casually. "The guys were pretty nice, although I think I might be put on Danny's blacklist after I shared a bit of blackmail on him."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll forgive you after the next burger you serve him," assured Lindsay with a kind smile. "He's the living embodiment of the adage 'a way to a man's heart is through his stomach.'"

"Oh I'm sure! But the opportunity was too good to resist. They were all teasing Don about him singing songs when he's drunk, so I thought I'd chip in and give them a run for their money."

Stella and Lindsay shared a quick look at that, but they continued to chat with Savannah until she got called away by one of her staff. It wasn't until the tall brunette left that Lindsay leaned over the table and whispered, "You think she's crushing on Flack a little bit?"

"A little?" snorted Stella. "Did you see the way she lit up just that little bit brighter when we or she talked about him?"

"It was just noticeable. I don't think she even realises she does it," pondered the shorter CSI.

"But there's been something different about the both of them for a little while now," the Greek woman pointed out. "Flack seems a little less…well, tortured than usual and Anna always seems a little more perky whenever I'm with him if we happen to drop by, even if it's for five minutes. In fact…" she trailed off, frowning in concentration, "they've seemed a bit closer ever since Anna went over to check on Flack when he was sick that time."

"He does seem more like his usual self," agreed Lindsay. "I've noticed he's been smiling more lately. Whenever he drops by to play with Lucy he seems more into it now." She quickly darted a glance to the cafe owner happily serving her customers. "You don't think they've-?"

"No," Stella interrupted softly. "I don't think so. I think Savannah might be harbouring a little flame for our favourite detective though. And I think Don only sees her as a very good friend so far. She has a way about her…I've been out with Anna a few times and she's so fun to go out with. The last time we went to my favourite bar for a few drinks, some guy grabbed my ass, which made me yelp, you know?" When the younger CSI nodded, she went on, "So Anna turns around from ordering the drinks, sees this guy smirking at me, comes up and grabs the front of his shirt and snarls 'Last time I checked, that's not a free touching zone. Beat it before I make your no touching zone shrivel up and die.' I was surprised by it, but then she turned around, and as sweet as apple pie, asks me if I'm okay."

Lindsay smiled, that same smile whenever she was onto something in the lab. "Sweet with a dash of kickass…sounds like the perfect woman for Don."

Stella made a thoughtful noise and then smiled in return. "You know…maybe she could be." She and Lindsay turned to look at Savannah, cheerily serving her customers. Mulling over the topic of her newest friend, Stella murmured, "She has to be one of the most compassionate people that I've ever met. There's something about her…"

"You've said that. Well, I can't think of anyone better for Flack to be with. She's nice, sympathetic, loyal, and has got a bit of a fiery side. She's not boring, she's not some Suzy Homemaker, and she's pretty to boot."

"But we can't push this Lindsay. We can't make two people do what we want just because we _think_ they could be perfect for each other. And all we can confirm right now is that Anna _might_ have a thing for Flack," Stella emphasised. She then stared off into the distance, contemplating things while Lindsay leaned forward, interested as to what her mentor was thinking. "We need something to see if there's that potential for sparks to fly."

"Like a reconstruction…only we're constructing feelings."

"Right," approved Stella.

Lindsay then realised something. "Hey, isn't it the annual NYPD ball in a month? I heard they're about to send off the invitations."

Stella sat up straighter, a plan forming in her head. "We need to go to the chief."

Confused as to the sudden change in the Grecian's thoughts, Lindsay asked, "What does the chief have to do with anything?"

Excited now, Stella explained, "If you're invited, you have the option of bringing a partner, right?"

"Right."

"Well we know that Don probably won't find a partner thinking he can just go alone and it'll be fine. But what if we asked the chief to make it mandatory for friends or partners to be brought – to make it look like a really big turnout for the NYPD?"

"I'm not seeing how this works," stated the younger woman, frowning.

"This is the crux of the plan…Flack doesn't 'mysteriously' get his invitation until the week before the ball, and so he doesn't have time to ask a friend at the precinct or one of the CSI's who are detectives – the only option will be Savannah," concluded Stella, satisfied with her plan.

"And we'll happen to be there to nudge him in the right direction, right?" Lindsay asked, comprehending, and smiling.

"Yep. And then, my little protégée, we'll just sit back and observe and see if something flies between those two."

"Has anyone told you that you seem a little maniacal when you're playing matchmaker?" asked Lindsay.

Stella shook her head, her chestnut brown curls bouncing everywhere. "They have now."

* * *

Later, after finishing up on casework, Stella leaned back in her office chair and dialled the police chief. When he answered, she said, "Chief? Detective Bonasera here. I just thought of a way to make the NYPD ball seem bigger than ever this year."

* * *

**A/N: Hahaha, those CSI's are determined! Never mess with Stella!**

**This was mainly a filler chapter, but I hope you liked it. For me, it was a bit of a relief to take the focus off Savannah and Don for the moment, because the next chapter is FULL of it. I'm almost finished it now ;D**

**I'd love your feedback. It's been amazing so far.**


	13. Rollercoaster Ball

**A/N: First of all, I'm warning you right now, this is an extra long chapter. I don't think there will be a chapter as long as this, and if there is, it's going to be an important one. I was so excited writing this that I typed like crazy to finish it and put it out today for those wonderful faithful reviewers and followers and favourites. Thank you to smuffly, no accounter and Annabella Colt for your feedback!**

** www. fashionfleet fashion-trends /international-brands /latest-prom-dresses. html - that is the link to Savannah's dress, what it looks like. It's the one shoulder purple long dress (not to be confused with the dark magenta one).**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 12 – Rollercoaster Ball**

* * *

_Tonight, I'm gonna come alive  
Make you forget about your nine to five  
Are you ready for your blood to rise?  
Tonight's the night  
I'm dressing up for you_

**Katy Perry – Dressin' Up**

* * *

**Don POV**

* * *

Oh they gotta be kiddin' me.

Since when was bringing a guest or partner to the NYPD ball compulsory? What a load of crap. Some high society wife of some big wigs must have suggested it to make sure they get to be someone for the night.

Not only that, but why in the hell did my invite get lost for a few weeks after they were issued? I was the only one, and that's weird. My cop instincts tell me someone had a hand in making sure that my invite got to me late, but short of going up to the crime lab and asking them to run tests on it, I have absolutely no idea.

Maybe it's the same person who sneaked extra paperwork onto my desk when I was sick.

I have a nice little prank for them when I find them.

Turning over the silver card in my hands, I don't know how I'm going to get a partner.

Well, I know how to get one. Just ask one, right?

Ha. Wrong.

Every female detective or cop I know has already found someone to go with, and I can't bring my relatives. My parents are on a cruise, so mom's out, Sam's working, and no way am I going to ask Sally the cleaning lady – the only female in this place that's not going. Even none of the CSI's are going it alone.

I've never felt more frustrated. It's almost like mission impossible.

The buzzing of my pager is a welcome distraction. It's Stella, getting results in for my recent homicide case. I quickly text her back before grabbing my coat and sidearm and making my way out of the bull pen. It doesn't take long for me to get to the lab, but it's enough that some of my annoyance about the ball cools. I mean, maybe I can ask one of the lab techs or something?

Aw, who am I kiddin'? Even if I do, I'll hate every bit of it.

Exiting the elevator, I see Stella waiting for me in the break room. She's snacking on…

Yum, Savannah's cookies. I can tell they're hers from a mile away. She does 'em nice and thick, and chewy. Looks like butter-pecan-chocolate flavour.

I can feel my arteries clogging from looking at them.

"Hey Stella, what have you got for me?" I ask, striding in.

She hands out a cookie and smiles. "Besides this?"

I take it, grinning back. "Yeah, besides this."

She pulls out a folder, flipping to the lab test results for DNA. "Turns out that that our vic Kelly Anlers had haemophilia."

"Isn't that some kinda thing where the blood can't clot properly?" I ask, checking to see if I had my facts right.

"Yeah, but the thing is, it's rare to find it in a female. Mostly males are the ones to be affected by the disease because of the way the genetic line is passed down. So our vic would have to be the daughter of both a male haemophiliac and a female carrier," explained Stella matter-of-factly.

Crossing my arms, I inquire, "Okay, but that relates to our investigation how?"

"When you recovered the murder weapon – the butchers knife – at the scene, it had two different donors of blood, but we found that the other donor was a male familial match to Kelly."

"Oh wait, let me guess, daddy dearest is a haemophiliac and accidentally nicked himself which caused his blood to get onto the knife while he stabbed his daughter?" I responded sardonically. It never ceased to disgust me when family turned on each other like that.

"And the lucky door prize goes to Detective Flack," Stella replied, flipping the folder closed. "We've got that, and the substance Mac took off the knife happened to be wax. We know that Ray Anlers is a candle maker, and a sample from one of his candles is an exact match to the wax we found on the knife. So he looks good for it. My only thing is, what motive do we have?"

Motive. Wax. Ray Anlers. The pieces come together and I quickly get out and flick through my memo book.

There.

"I got motive," I announce. I didn't see it before, but thanks to Stella, I've got the final piece we need to bring the murdering idiot in. "Every family member is highly life insured because of their diseases – that, I'm guessing, it doesn't state the cause for the life insurance on the report – for about two mill each." I let memory of the scene flash before my eyes. I remember most details, and one in particular stuck out. "Anlers was going to expand his business operations into an actual shop instead of working from a shoebox off west 34th. I saw the plans on the table. When I interviewed him, he muttered something about not wanting to be indebted to banks and so he worked hard to make up the dough." I snort in derision. "Yeah, killing your own child must be labour intensive."

"I don't know how people do it," Stella murmured softly.

"We got motive. He wanted the money to pay off his new venture, but if he lost a daughter in the process, hey, that was okay."

The Grecian woman tapped the folder thoughtfully against her hand. "You want to go round him up? I'll ride shotgun."

"Sure. I need to make up my scumbag quota of the day, it's a few short," I retort with a humourless smirk. Stella knows that smirk and her mouth sets in a line that means she's going to be talking to me about something to do with my current mood.

That's fine. As long as it's not a D&M. I've had a few of those lately.

After following the correct protocol to allow us to go pick up Anlers, Stella finally asks her question in the car.

"What's up with you today Flack? Everything okay?"

Yeah. Peachy and wonderful and sunshine and roses.

Not.

"Eh. It's just this ball thingy. They've changed the rules," I reply, trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal. Stella can see through it – I'd be surprised if she didn't, she's known me too long anyway. I'm proven right when she asks me, "What, the guest rule? What's the matter, haven't you found anyone to charm?"

"I just got the invite today."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I mumble, disgruntled.

Stella makes a humming noise and replies, "That's a real shame. I don't know of anyone that's free. Not even your mom?"

"On a cruise. Her and dad have stopped over at Hawaii recently, so they are beyond out."

"I heard Sally the cleaning lady-"

"Don't even go there," I warn, seeing her smirk. "I considered it for not even a second before realising I'd rather be turned away from being there alone." In the following silence, I can practically hear the cogs whirling in the CSI's brain. If she can think of someone, cudos to her. Because I'm stumped.

"How about Savannah?"

I wasn't expecting that answer.

"I didn't even think of her," I admit, realising that I _should_ have thought of her. I guess I relegated her to the sphere of my life outside of work so much that I didn't even consider her. The ball doesn't seem so annoying now if Savannah could come. She'd be a blast to have tag along, and I wouldn't have to feel guilty (because I know I would be if it was some random lab tech who was free) about having a partner to the gig. That, and I'm sure that the brass would love to have her there. Over half of them have been to her cafe.

"There we go, problem solved. I mean, most of the guys at the precinct know her, and I've heard that you've been taking her to the gun range to help defend her cafe if she ever gets robbed." Stella broke into my thoughts easily. She was smiling genially and I thought I saw a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes for a split second before dismissing it as a trick of the light.

"Yeah I guess so. All I have to do is ask."

"She's your friend Flack. I doubt she'll turn you down," the Grecian woman reasoned.

Ah Stella, always the voice of reason. Mixed with a dash of compassion.

"She could. Sometimes women think it's a joke when someone asks them out to something," I replied, knowing this to be all too true. Some girls I've dated in the past have been shyer than mice.

Stella snorted in mirth as I turned into Ray Anlers' tiny closet of a shop.

And then it's game time.

We approach, guns out, knowing that if this guy killed his daughter, then he'd know we're coming from him. I rap on the door, calling out my usual script of, "Ray Anlers, open up, NYPD!" I press my ear to the doorjamb, trying to hear anything that will give me a reason to break open the door so we can make an arrest. It's like the warrant is burning in my pocket. There's a clink of glass, a shuffle, and then the faint, but unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

Shit.

"Move!" I yell to Stella, making sure she's clear before ducking away just as the first shot explodes out of the door. Cursing in Irish under my breath, I call out, "Anlers, this isn't helping your case. Just put the gun down and come down with your hands up behind your head."

"Go to hell!"

"No thanks, already experienced it," I retort. I can tell I've confused him, making him pause. I take the chance and dash back the car, grabbing my bulletproof vest and wrestling it into place as Anlers fires another shot out the door. It dings off my front fender, leaving a horrible mark.

"Okay buddy, now you've pissed me off. You scratched my car," I growl, gesturing for Stella to stay back. She's already called back-up, I can hear the sirens in the distance.

"Fuck you," the perp shouts.

Holding my gun up, I stand up and face Anlers down. "I repeat, put it down, _now,_" I bark authoritatively.

Instead of making my day easier, Anlers runs.

Great.

Oh well, at least my exercise needs are going to be satisfied today. I dash after him. I don't know if he has a car waiting, but I want to get this guy. He killed his daughter in cold blood and obviously doesn't give a damn about the fact the cops are after him. It's guys like this who don't have an ounce of guilt on their conscience that drive me. My feet pound through the shop, following him in a mad dash through the back door into an alley. Adrenalin courses through me, Anlers in my field of vision as I zero in on him. His gun is still in hand, but I don't worry about it. He's inexperienced with it, I can tell. If he goes to use it, I'll know because chances are he'll slow down to fire.

He looks back at me, and I can finally see it in his eyes. He knows I'm going to catch him.

Damn straight I will.

He makes a turn down a smaller alley and is immediately barred by a locked gate.

Victory is mine as I collide with him, pushing him up against the wall so I can wrest the gun from his hands, kicking it off to the side as I cuff him. "Nice work scratching my car. I just had it detailed. You realise you're gonna be paying for that?" I then read him his rights.

And he's chillingly silent the whole time. The bastard. He knows he's been caught.

It's the most excitement I get from the whole day of chasing fruitless leads and hating the new ball rule.

At least, until I go and see Savannah.

Entering the cafe just before closing, the most wonderful smell of baking chocolate cake hits my senses. I sigh, the tension melting away as I let the aura of the place wrap around me. I smile at the picture of Jess on the wall. Like Anna, her portrait is a part of the reason why I'm comfortable here now. It's soothing. I notice Mac is here, hovering around the kitchen door.

"Whoa, I better call the crime lab. Someone's far from his habitat," I quip, getting one of Mac's famous 'looks' in return.

"Why is it that whenever I take a day off or even more than half an hour, everyone rides my ass about it?"

"That's because we like it when you actually, you know, go home at normal times and take breaks like a normal person," I reply, coming over to him and smiling. "What's up with you?"

Mac nods his head towards the kitchen. "I asked Anna to make a cake for the fire chief. His wife just got the news that she's beaten breast cancer and they're celebrating tonight. I thought a cake by Anna would be a nice touch."

"Totally. I'm jealous actually."

"Don," Mac admonishes fondly, and I grin, knowing what's coming next. "You get Savannah and her food all to yourself each time you come in. It's good to share it around."

"Yes it is," Savannah agreed, coming out of the kitchen with Mac's last statement, a large chocolate fudge cake in a container. The scent is so potent I want to just say 'stuff it,' and grab it all for myself.

Yeah, next I'll be going to SCA. Sweetaholics and Chocoholics Anonymous.

"What, you or the food?"

"Both. There's enough of me and the food to go around," she says, winking at me.

Mac has this look on his face where he's trying to figure something out, but it soon disappears and he smiles at Anna. She returns it and embraces him, whispering something to him I can't quite catch. He nods and pats her on the back. Farewelling us both, Mac is gone and soon it's just the two of us.

Savannah is doing that raised eyebrow thing at me. It usually means one of two things. Either she's planning something diabolical or she's asking me if I'm hungry. Today, I think it's the latter. I hope. I think I've had enough surprises today – from the late invitation to the surprisingly indifferent nature of Ray Anlers to anything except for profit – to really appreciate Anna's usual brand of TLC.

"Got anything you can heat up quickly for me?" I ask hopefully, pulling my most charming face. Like always, Savannah chuckles and lightly pats me on the shoulder and replies, "Sure thing Don."

I sit at my usual table, dropping my jacket on the back of my seat and tiredly scrubbing a hand over my face.

God, what a day.

And it's still not over yet, and won't be for at least another few hours.

A new smell permeates my work foggy mind and I sit up straighter as a bowl is placed in front of me. It's minestrone, one of my favourite soups. I inhale deeply, sighing, "Oh yeah. This is going to hit the spot."

"Thought so. You look buggered."

"I am."

She sits opposite me, looking just as exhausted as me with her messy bun, tired eyes, and a flour streak on the side of her face, her own bowl steaming in front of her. She passes me the parmesan and asks, "Anything you can tell me about?"

"Well Dr. Phil, I had to chase down a gun-toting suspect who killed his kid for insurance money." I shake my head in disgust. "I just hate those ones. Any sensible person would just want to scream at them, tell them how stupid they are for hurting innocents. Especially their own family." I glanced up and saw Anna's look of horror. "It's happened before, in other cases, but it's the worst deductive result to find."

"Talk about a rough day," she murmured in reply, before taking a spoonful of soup. I do the same, inwardly amused about the fact that, intuitively, Savannah gave me what I needed most.

Again.

And I can't mind. She's wonderful like that. She's an awesome friend.

"This is great," I tell her appreciatively, digging in.

"You look like you needed it."

We chow down (well, I did. She did it much more ladylike) and finish off, and I find myself getting nervous. What for? All I'm doing is asking Savannah to come with me for the ball. I mean, it's no big deal. She's been a constant support for a few months now, and no one would think it weird. They know of our amity towards each other. So why is it that there's a churning in my stomach at the thought of asking?

I'm sure it's not Anna's food that's making it do that.

When she comes back from taking the empty bowls away, her teasing is a welcome balm. "You realise that's going to cost you?"

"How much?"

"A ride to the subway," she replies.

Frowning, I say, "That's only a minute drive away."

"It saves on five minutes of walking for me."

"Just let me take you all the way home, will you?" I ask, exasperated. Savannah doesn't ask for enough sometimes. She's too generous like that.

"It's out of your way, Don," she reminds me softly. I know that, but I want to take her home. Not only will I get the chance to ask her, but I'm assured she'll be safe because Jacks isn't here to give her a ride.

"I know, but I want to," I insist, giving her my best imploring look. I know I have her when she suddenly smiles and giggles. "Oh, alright, if you really want to that much, you can. I'll just grab my bag and coat," Savannah smiles and whirls away. Satisfied, I get my own belongings, twirling my keys and heading for the door. The vivacious brunette is close behind me, and I can still smell the sweetness of chocolate. She must have spilt some on her.

Hey, much better that than some of the stuff perps I've brought in smell like.

My only problem with it is that now I feel like some chocolate.

We're soon on our way, and Savannah is writing a list of ingredients and chatting about her customers and regulars. It's a good diversion for me. There's still that stupidly irrational nervousness in the pit of my stomach.

As we near her apartment building, I finally look over at her as we're stopped for a red light. Hell, might as well just do it now. "Just out of curiosity, what are you up to on the weekend? Not tomorrow, next weekend?"

She looks back at me, inquisitive. "I don't know. Probably going to work and then I might catch a movie with Jacks if I'm feeling particularly bored. Why?"

Okay, full steam ahead.

"Well, there's this NYPD ball thing coming up, and it's necessary to have a partner. Since family is out, I was wondering if you'd like to come along," I said, casually as possible.

"A ball? For what?"

"Fundraising, social presence, to make a big hoo-ha I guess. So how about it? Wanna tag along?" I ask, keeping myself cool and calm, keeping the hope out of my voice.

She smiles that joyous smile of hers. "Yeah, that'd be fantastic. It works out well anyway."

"How's that?"

The smile turns cheeky and she pulls a letter out of her bag. "Turns out that Chief Sinclair really, really likes my Portuguese tarts. So I'm making five hundred mini-tarts for the function that day. So if I get to go, that means that I'll be able to taste my work and see how everyone likes it instead of relying on word of mouth."

What do ya know? I grin back at her, elated that everything fell into place. Goodbye stress about ball, hello relaxation. I quickly inform her on the details and she asks, "So, how fancy is it going to be? Are we talking cocktail dresses or full on ball gowns?" She pauses, and them seems to brighten. "Are you going to be wearing a tux?"

"I have to," I say.

"I have a pretty good idea then. I'll be sure not to embarrass you by shopping through Lady Gaga's wardrobe."

Now that's a funny thought. I imagine Savannah in one of those crazy creations rocking up to the gala. I start grinning and she laughs, and soon we're both loosing it as I pull up to the front of her building. It's freeing to simply be like this with Savannah. "At least we'd be noticed! Hey, have a good one. I'll see you before then, yeah?"

"Yeah. Enjoy the rest of your night Don."

"You too, Savannah."

And she leaves with her special parting smile.

* * *

It's the night of the ball.

Joy.

Schmoozing with the upper and middle class and trying not to laugh at how out of touch some people are with reality. At least Mac, Stella, and the rest of the team will be there. That'll probably be the saving grace of the whole thing. They'll be more sensible than the rest of the detectives I'm on good terms with. And Savannah. I'm beyond happy she's coming along.

Although she was a little stressed out when I dropped by the cafe early this morning. Apparently she's been there since five doing the tarts. She wants to get them done early so that she can have enough time to get ready.

Well I hope she is, because I've just pulled into the front of her apartment. It's six thirty, I'm in my freshly pressed tux and I'm fortified against spending a night out. I get out and head into the building, knocking on the door to Anna's apartment.

"Come on in! The door's open!" I hear her call.

I should lecture her on the fact that she doesn't know it's me and she could be letting some psycho into the apartment, but I know it could ruin the night. I enter, and Savannah is nowhere in sight. There's a muted silver purse (clutch do they call it?) on the table, but most of the lights are off and I can hear shuffling down the hall.

"I'll be out in a minute."

"It's fine. I'm not going anywhere."

I settle on Savannah's amazingly comfy couch – I must remember to ask her where she got it from so I can get one – and wait, clasping my hands together and fiddling with my cufflinks. Like the cafe, Savannah's apartment wraps around me and calms me. Might be the colours. The grey, green and purple are so very like her.

A soft noise makes me turn my head.

…..oh.

Holy wow.

I mean, I've known Savannah is pretty, like I know that Stella and Lindsay are pretty. You recognise it, you're aware of it, but until something changes the perception…

I think I'm speechless.

She's a knock out and a half. She's putting in simple, dangling silver earrings as she comes into the lounge area, the skirt of the full length purple dress swaying around her legs as she walks in. It's a one shouldered gown in a kind of purple colour that doesn't jump out. It's feminine without being sickly or cutesy, cinching in a band a few inches below her bust before it flows to the ground, emphasising her chest and ample hips.

Damn, she's got curves.

As I stare at her, I have to pinch myself. I've never really realised what a looker Savannah is. I've usually seen her in jeans or a knee-length skirt, so this is different. Real different. Her hair is more tamed tonight, curling gently down to her shoulder blades. And she actually has make up on apart from a dash of that tinted moisturiser stuff I know she uses and some mascara. Her eyes really pop with the dark eye shadow and liner, and her lips are a rich, deep red colour.

It's not over the top.

It's just…wow.

"Don, are you trying to catch flies?"

"Yeah," I say intelligibly.

In my head, I'm going 'stupid, stupid, stupid!' It's just Savannah after all. She's my _friend_. Coughing to hide my embarrassment, I stand and give her a quick once over. "You polish up nice kid."

"The James Bond set called. They want their suit back," she jokes, and I don't feel so shell-shocked anymore. It's still Savannah underneath it all. Just…more gorgeous than I've ever seen her.

Yeah, that's a thought I'm going to leave for later.

"Ha ha, I've heard that one before," I banter back.

"I'd have been surprised if you hadn't. A suit suits you." She then gracefully picks up her bag and nods towards the door. "Well? Does my chariot await?"

"Absolutely."

In the car, the perfume she wears fills the air. Out of curiosity, I ask, "What's the stuff you're wearing?"

"A dress and shoes…and I'm pretty sure you know what would be underneath them for propriety's sake," she replies in a way like I'm a two-year old. But she's grinning, effervescent in her enthusiasm.

"I knew that," I reply, and I can feel the tips of my ears burning. She has that unique ability to catch me, the usually unflappable detective, off guard. I stepped straight into that one. "What I meant was, what's the perfume you're wearing. That's some nice stuff."

"It's from a range called 'Juliette has a Gun.' It's called Extreme Vengeance. I only wear it on special occasions, so I'm glad you like it," Savannah said. I swear, that smile of hers has been permanently glued to her face since we left her apartment. It makes _me_ smile just from seeing it. Savannah has that contagiousness about her – and I'm quoting that from Mac too.

"Nice," I compliment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her cheeks pinken slightly. She does that whenever someone compliments her.

We engage in small talk but it's never stilted and stuffy like conversation with, say, higher ups in the brass. I talk about the latest Bourne movie, which she eagerly debates who is the better action star, Matt Damon or Bruce Willis, with me. Out of loyalty, I have to go with Bruce while Anna argues hotly for Matt Damon. It's a fun debate, and we agree to disagree as we arrive at the venue.

We exit and the valet takes my keys. I offer my arm. "Ready?"

"Lead the way detective," she says, almost tentatively taking my arm. I guide her through the grand doors, and hand in the invitation. We enter to the hubbub of chatter. Instantly, I can hear the high-pitched laughter of society wives and the rowdiness of some city officials – guess they dropped off the wagon early in the night. I spot our table, breathing a sigh of relief when I see my favourite CSI's with their partners, friends, or dates, and a few detectives I know. Savannah knows Graham already, but there's Detective Lincoln Wright and Detective James Polanski. Stella spots us first and waves frantically, wearing the same dress she did that time we were looking for the technological robbers.

We make our way there, and I can't help but notice everyone I know, (and people I don't) staring at Savannah and I.

Or maybe it's just Savannah. She looks great tonight.

My attention is on my table. It's this weird thing in gatherings like this. You're supposed to act like you don't care that everyone is staring. If you look around in awe, you're identified as a newbie (Savannah definitely looks like this), but if you act too indifferent, it's like you're condemned. I think it's stupid and it's one of the reasons why I don't particularly like going to these kind of functions.

Mac, Danny, Hawkes, and Sid are in usual tuxes, while Stella is slinky in that black dress, and Lindsay has opted for a simple dark green strapless that looks great on her. Her and Danny look really relaxed.

Then again, this is probably one of the only real outings they get together now with little Lucy taking up their time.

"Hey guys," I greet.

"Doesn't everyone look amazing?" Savannah exclaims from next to me, hurrying over to hug everyone she knows at the table. Instantly, the mood brightens as she goes from person to person, sharing a special joke or compliment, showing how at ease she is with them. She sits, her eyes shining with pure delight, and pats the seat next to her. "C'mon buddy boy," she sing-songs, making everyone smile.

God, she's infectious.

As soon as I'm seated, the group begins to talk again. I'm just happy to sit and observe and wait until food comes around. Sid and Anna have only been introduced once, and so he captures her in conversation easily with his quirkiness.

I prefer to lean towards the CSI's. They actually have something interesting to say.

Graham's alright, but Wright and Polanski have only two things on their mind when they're not working.

Women and sex.

If they weren't such good detectives I wouldn't have even tolerated them. Thankfully, they're keeping the trash talk to their side of the table. If Savannah's reaction to Gort a month ago was any indication, then she'd definitely want to shut those two up.

Little nibbles come around, and out of the corner of my eyes I can see the girls all rolling their eyes as Danny and I charm the waitresses into staying just that little bit longer so we can fill our plates. Once they leave, I pick up a little tart. "This one of yours, Anna?"

"Yep! The chief said that he'd put them on early instead of later so he could eat them before anything else," she replied cheerfully.

I pop it into my mouth, resisting the urge to close my eyes and savour the flavour.

What is that magic touch she has I'll never know. I quickly look at Danny, who succumbed to his baser desires and moaned slightly. Mac grins, Lindsay flushes slightly, Sid and Hawkes look bemused and Stella and Savannah just giggle quietly.

"Damn Savannah…can you just live with me and Linds?" Danny said around the morsel in his mouth.

"Danno, chew with your mouth closed. You're turning me off the awesome spread buddy."

"Mmm….so good."

"Sorry Danny, I kinda like being my own boss, not an indentured servant," Savannah replies with a wink.

After that, the topic changes to Savannah's food. Just as the first course is announced, Chief Sinclair wanders up to our table.

He looks scarily jovial.

I only say that because I'm used to him being serious.

He comes over to Savannah and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Cormier, those tarts were a treat. I just wanted to thank you for your efforts in person and to say I'm glad you managed to get here. You're very respected at the local precincts," he murmurs to her, and I catch it all.

I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. First, I find myself scarily drawn to this new, freaking beautiful Savannah, and the chief is getting all mushy.

Weird.

He then nods to the rest of the table and walks off to schmooze with the mayor.

"Anna, I feel like I should be calling you the microwave," piped up Lindsay. "You're always thawing people!"

The analogy is strangely perfect, and we all have a good chuckle. This ball wasn't shaping up to be so bad after all. The first course arrives, and then the second, the CSI's sharing stories and eating and drinking the night away. Many times throughout the night, my line of sight keeps going back to Savannah, radiant and content next to me in that flattering purple dress. Many times, our gazes meet and she smiles for me. She smiles for everyone else too, but there's a gentleness about it when she turns towards me. Empathy.

After the main meal, an emcee calls for partners to dance.

I lean back in my chair, watching as Danny and Lindsay eagerly race towards the floor, while Graham gets up to collect his date from another table. Sid and his wife, Mac and Stella, Hawkes and his friend Laverna all go up. Wright and Polanski came together as cop buddies (translation = we couldn't get a date or a friend, knew we wouldn't be able to, and so came up with this) and so they laze about, trying to engage me in the topic of football.

If they knew me better, they would have known my hot button would be hockey.

While they debate, I notice that Savannah looks out onto the dance floor wistfully. Her head rests on her hands and her lips only curve up slightly.

I sigh. All she had to do was ask if she wanted to dance.

I tap her on the shoulder and grab her hand. "C'mon Miss Self-Sacrificing. Let's go dance."

"Don, are you-"

"If you ask me if I'm sure one more time I'm going to have you committed," I threaten jokingly. I think she gets it when her diffident expression turns devious and she tugs on my hand, pulling forward. "Well come on then slowpoke!" she calls over her shoulder.

That's more like it.

I don't know what song is playing, but I'm glad it's not too slow as we find a space near Mac and Stella. Even though they're dancing, they're still talking some science mumbo-jumbo. They look completely comfortable with each other, and I reflect on what a great friendship they have. Savannah faces me, her hands held out invitingly. I'm no stranger to putting my hands on her – we've had enough self-defence and gun range training sessions for us to be comfortable with each other's touch – but this is different. New.

And that horrible churning in the pit of my stomach is back.

Yippee.

We assume the traditional dance position, one hand in each other's while I place my hand on her waist and she carefully lays hers on my shoulder. With heels on, she's closer to my height and it's easier to make eye contact. She raises that cheeky eyebrow and I murmur, "Careful. I might just embarrass you by doing the Macarena instead of normal dancing."

"Considering I didn't dress up like Lady Gaga, I'd expect the same courtesy for dancing. Although I pictured you as more of a Nutbush kinda guy."

"The knee movements make me feel like a Vegas showgirl doing the can-can."

"So you'd know how being a Vegas showgirl feels?" Savannah teases me, swaying in time with me to the beat of the jazz music playing.

"No. But that's how I'd imagine they would feel," I reply with a matter-of-fact air. She shakes her head in amusement.

After a minute or two of simple dancing, Savannah whispers to me, "You know, I would have paid to see that."

"What?"

"You doing the Macarena. I should record it for one of my down days."

"Oh ha-ha. I'll have you know I'm very good at it," I banter back challengingly.

"Was that drunk or sober?"

"Sober. The one time I tried to do any dance drunk, I managed to break a chair," I say, smirking sheepishly at the memory. It was ages ago now, but I still think it was pretty funny that I managed to take out a wood dining chair. That's no easy feat. Anna's soft laughter melds with the music. I twirl her around as the tempo of it changes. Note to self: thank mom later for forcing me into ballroom lessons as a kid. It's helped at events like these.

We dance our way through another two songs before Danny cuts in, leaving me with his wife. We chat about Lucy while Danny did a lively kind of dance with Savannah. Soon Savannah is approached by Mac, then Sid, followed by Hawkes and Graham. She's a ball of sunshine with her attitude.

It reminds me of the excitement she had when I took her sightseeing.

Soon she's back with me and we finish off with one last dance. Dessert is coming soon anyway. I admire her joyously flushed face, the sparkle in her eyes, the warmth of her shoulder under my hand as I guide her off the dance floor.

As we make our way back the table, Wright's distinctive voice carries back to us. I roll my eyes in disgust. He's talking about some skinny woman he picked up inside some club. To think that used to be my life in my early twenties.

He must not have heard us arrive back at the table, as he's facing Polanski when he says, "Man, this skinny little bird had massive tits. A bit like Flack's date, only on her, they look average. I mean, since when does a man like Flack, who can get any chick he wants, date the plus size model type? She's got a hot face, but who wants that kinda body when you can get a better looking one? She's probably only good for one thing, that fat bitch."

Oh fuck…I whirl around to see Savannah, all delight and liveliness gone from her face, looking ashen underneath her make-up.

Shock quickly turns to anger, as I expected, and she hisses and rushes forward. I catch her around the shoulders, muttering harshly into her ear, "Remember where you are Anna. He's not worth it."

Wright notices his audience and looks around, completely unconcerned and unapologetic. "Oh. You heard. Well, it's the truth."

Savannah stops fighting to get at him, and an unnatural stillness comes in. The same stillness before she slammed Gort up against the wall. I tighten my grip on her shoulders, taking in the scene. People at the neighbouring tables are watching raptly, and the CSI's have also stopped in speechless shock on their way back to the table. "Savannah," I whisper, quietly as possible, hoping she'll reign the anger in.

She shudders in my arms slightly. And then in a tone that chills me to the bone in how calm it is, she says, "We ask justice, we ask equality, we ask that all the civil and political rights that belong to citizens of the United States, be guaranteed to us and our daughters forever." Pausing, Savannah went on, "That was Susan B. Anthony in 1876 just in case you were wondering you sexist pig. It just makes me so sad when more than a hundred years from then, there are men like you that prevent things like that from being forever." She stands tall, and I let go of her and stand back, just in reach in case she decides to go at him. "You can call me a feminist if you like. But like Rebecca West said: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat, or a prostitute. And I refuse to be, or be treated like, any one of those."

Whoa. You coulda knocked me over with a feather right then.

"I will not stand to be called anything other than me. To some, I may be fat, to some, I may be skinny. But don't you dare try and label me with your misogynistic preconceptions. I'm me. And I have a responsibility to myself to be me. Your thoughtless comment only shows how afraid you are of a strong woman, Wright. I have a brain. I have instinct. I have something more than an organ at the top of my legs. And I'm not afraid to use them," Savannah continued, in that same even, icy tone. She hasn't looked away from Wright, pinning him with her grey eyed glare.

I'm reminded of Xena or some Joan of Arc. She's riveting. I, and everyone in the vicinity, can't look away from the unfolding drama.

Wright looks around, feeling all the condemning eyes on him, especially Savannah's. "Look, what I meant was-"

"You said I was only good for one thing. You called me fat. A bitch. I'm pretty sure we all know what you mean," Savannah interrupts tightly. "You ignorant lout," she growls in the silence. "I won't take any more of your presence. You disgust me. You, and all men like you."

And with that, she grabs her purse and leaves. The ballroom is quiet until the door is closed, and then Chief Sinclair shouts, "Wright! You're under suspension until the review board will decide what to do with your future." A cheer goes up. Wright, humiliated and angry, is then dragged away from Polanski. I still have a bone to pick with him though. Nodding to the rest of my table, I follow the sexist douche bag out. In the hallway, there's no sign of Savannah. As much as I want to go after her, I need to get this out.

Polanski sees me when he looks behind, and I must have the most horrifying expression on in my fury, for he turns pasty white and drops Wright, scurrying over to the other side of the hall.

Before he can react, I pick Wright up and throw him up against the wall, pinning him up by the neck. "I knew there was a reason I didn't like you, Wright."

"Fuck you Flack. She's just a piece of ass," he spits back.

He must be a masochist. Wright's asking for it.

I slam him up against the wall again, barely keeping control. "She's more than a piece of ass. She's my friend. You didn't expect her to fire back, did you? You thought she'd run off sobbing, waiting for some white knight to save her?" I ask lowly, injustice bubbling inside my blood. It's the same feeling at a particularly hard murder scene, where I'm itching for the perp to be caught. I snarl at him, "You can't hold a woman like that down. She doesn't live her life to be what a man wants. That, you'll never understand. You're too focused with thinking with your other head to ever know."

Wright struggles and I shove an elbow into his gut, making him cough and choke.

I release him. He's beneath me. "You better not have made her do something irrational. If she has, I'm taking it out on you," I warn. Straightening my jacket, I stride angrily to the outside, whistling for the valet to bring my car. I have to find Savannah.

Now.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the ballroom, Mac and Stella sat at their table after the spectacle they had just witnessed. The curly haired woman turned to her friend and murmured, "Did you see what I saw?"

"Apart from Anna showing the 'I am woman, hear me roar' sentiment? Yes," Mac replied.

Stella looked after where Flack was exiting the ballroom, determination in every cell of him. "When they were on the dance floor together, they looked so comfortable and barely dropped eye contact. Did you see Don while Anna was going at Wright? He couldn't look away from her the whole time. He let her stand up for herself. And yet, he's going off to defend her against Wright. That's gotta count for something major. Flack hasn't been like that for anyone since Jess," she pointed out briskly. She smirked. "I'm even proud of her. It takes a lot of guts to say that in the middle of a function like this."

Mac was thoughtful, considering. "I wouldn't be surprised if we soon saw those two dating."

"Me either. You encourage it?"

"As much as you endorsed it. Nice plan, by the way, getting Don to ask Anna here," Mac replied, looking amused.

Stella looked away embarrassedly. "How'd you figure that one out Mac?"

"I heard you make the call to Sinclair. And I also saw you take Flack's card from the pile waiting in the precinct reception area. It's paid off, we got to see just how much Don and Anna would benefit from each other," the older man observed wisely.

"Only time will tell," Stella agreed.

* * *

**A/N: I had SO MUCH fun writing this chapter. Not only Don's reaction (lol!) but also Savannah's speech towards the end there. I enjoyed looking through a multitude of feminist quotes to find the ones I wanted, and it made me write about eight pages in a journal about it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I had fun writing it.**

**As always, reviewer feedback is pretty awesome stuff. You guys have been doing so well so far. **

**Will Don find Anna? That's a question for next chapter ;)**


	14. Fighting Oneself

**A/N: Thank you so much for the stalwart reviewers: smuffly, bjq, no accounter, and FallenAngel0601. I'm so glad you all enjoyed the previous chapter as much as you did. Your reviews let me know I'm right on track, and I appreciate it deeply. I was disappointed for about one second that I didn't get a bigger response, but I tossed it away because getting four reviews is still pretty awesome. **

**As always, enjoy!**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing. Might be more in further chapters.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 13 – Fighting Oneself**

* * *

_It's a cruel cruel world, to face on your own,  
A heavy cross, to carry along,  
The lights are on, but everyone's gone,  
And it's cruel_

**Gossip – Heavy Cross**

* * *

As soon as Savannah got out of the venue, she took off for the nearest safe haven. Speedily weaving through pedestrians, holding up the hem of her dress, she headed for the cafe. She knew she received a few odd looks as she rushed down the streets of Manhattan and across the Brooklyn Bridge, but she couldn't care. The sting of the words were still raw. An angry tear escaped her stubborn control and she dashed it away with a finger, refusing the tears.

She hated crying.

'_Why did that stupid idiot Wright have to ruin my night?'_ she thought mournfully as she began to run, clouded with anger and insecurity the last few blocks. She could only think 'safety.' She didn't want to go home furious. This was the only place she could come.

Seeing her sign 'Comfort Cafe,' Savannah breathed a sigh of relief and slowed down, taking off her heels. However, she didn't miss the silver car idling on the kerb or it's occupant.

Not even bothering to hide her distraught expression, she fumbled in her clutch for her keys, opening up and entering, dropping into the nearest chair, her head in her hands. She didn't even bother to turn on the lights.

Don was silent and concerned as he followed the brunette into the shadowed space.

"Thought I'd check here first before going back to your apartment. Good thing I did, I saw you on the bridge," he murmured. He awkwardly fiddled with his cufflinks before grabbing a chair and sitting in front of Savannah. She refused to look at him, her eyes filled with tears. She didn't want him to see her like this…again.

"Savannah," Flack whispered, reaching forward and carefully turning her face back towards him. He noted a tear track on her cheek and that she was determinedly not staring back at him. "Savannah, please, would you look at me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I won't be able to…I won't be able to stop crying if I do," she mumbled, flushing in humiliation. "I don't want to cry. Not anymore. The time for crying is over."

Don felt a little helpless as he watched the beautiful woman before him attempt to compose herself. "For what it's worth…I was really impressed by what you did back there. You've got some real guts to stand up for yourself in a hall full of cops, most of which are men. Be proud of yourself. I know I am."

"I should be. I _know_ I should be," Savannah replied, finally meeting Flack's eyes. "But I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," interrupted Don soothingly, sensing the stressed out tone in her voice. He brought his other hand up and carded it through her hair in what he hoped was a comforting way. 'It's understandable. Wright said so much shit about you, and he was so full of it his eyes were brown." That got a snort of amusement from her. He knew he was getting somewhere with that, and so he went on, "I think what he said was the worst lie anyone could ever say about you."

"That's kind of you, but he does have a slight point," Savannah said sullenly, and then gestured at her torso, "I could lose some weight. I mean, I thought I was a healthy size, but the way he just cut me down hurt, even if I don't really think it."

Flack rolled his eyes at that. "Please, don't even think that. Anything over 100 pounds is overweight to Wright."

Savannah looked disgusted at that. "Really? That's terrible."

"Exactly. And don't you dare even be concerned with the way you look. You've got curves, don't get me wrong, but it's like…an awesome Marilyn Monroe style kinda thing, or like Elizabeth Taylor when she was younger – but you're taller. You are not fat or huge, trust me. You're…just," he cleared his throat and admitted, "Well, I think you look beautiful. I told you before we left for the ball, didn't I? And if I forgot, you should have beaned me in the head with your purse." He gestured to the dress. "This suits you perfect. I know the night wasn't a complete success, but don't get rid of it."

Calmed, Savannah released a shaky breath and managed to school her face into a neutral expression. "Okay then. I was just so angry, and hurt, and just so shocked, you know? He also insulted you by insulting me."

Flack shrugged. "Hey, I was pissed too. I've never even insinuated something about a woman like that." He remembered something and exclaimed, "Oh! By the way, you missed the fireworks. Chief Sinclair put Wright on desk duty until his fate can be sorted out."

Savannah's face softened. "He did that?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Good. While I don't want Wright to be fired, I think some time to think about his actions and words and how they affect other people. Maybe he should spend a few days with a feminist organisation as punishment," she thought aloud.

Flack nodded. "That's a good idea. I'll pass it on."

She leaned into the hand cradling her face and sighed. "I can't help but be a little unconfident about my looks. No matter how many times I tell myself that it doesn't matter what I look like on the outside, as long as I'm at peace with who I am as a person inside, a good person." Holding her friend's eyes, she murmured, "Can you forgive me for flipping out a little?"

"As far as I was concerned, you were more than entitled to that. And it was probably one of the more interesting balls I've been to in a while."

Savannah managed a smile at that. "I'm sure."

"Hey, come here," murmured Flack, leaning forward, making the first move and kneeling next to her, wrapping the brunette woman in his arms. Savannah was tense for a split second before allowing herself to be engulfed in the comfort of his arms, secure and safe around her. Any remaining inadequacy vanished. Indulging herself, she breathed in his scent, her own hands sliding around his shoulders as he pulled her over to him. It wasn't awkward, or uncomfortable. Don was as warm as the setting sun and as careful with her as a chef with a delicate soufflé. "Don't doubt how amazing you are. Okay? Can you promise me that?"

"I can't promise it…but I will try. I will have bouts of insecurity, Don," Savannah replied honestly.

"That's all I ask for. There needs to be women less afraid of standing up for themselves and be like you," he shared with her.

They sat like that for a while until Savannah drew back, more at ease with herself than before. She was about to thank the handsome detective when a light tap at the door to her cafe interrupted her attempt.

Flack turned and frowned at seeing Adam Ross there.

"Uh…hey," Adam said uncertainly. He had a tuxedo on, so he must have been at the ball. He looked the least geeky the detective had ever seen him. "Uh, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but Stella asked me to check and see if you were okay Ms. Cormier."

Savannah brightened a bit at that. "I'm all good. You must be Adam, right? The CSI team talks a lot about you."

Adam blushed a little bit. "Yeah, I'm Adam Ross. I was at the…ah…ball tonight, but I wasn't at the table you guys were on, I was on the…the next one over. I saw it all, and so…yeah, so you're okay?" he rambled, his eyes nervously darting from Flack to Savannah and back again. Flack tried not to look as irritated and stood, leaning back against the table, watching in amusement. He could see the moment in which Savannah's instincts took over and she rose gracefully with all the presence of a goddess and walked over to the fidgety lab tech.

Savannah reached over and placed a hand on Adam's shoulder gently. "I'm fine. Thank you so much for coming to check up on me. Let Stell know I'll call her later." She then tilted her head to the side. "Out of curiosity, why have I not seen you here?"

Adam shrugged. "I kinda let my work get caught up with me. When I get off shift all I do is go home and maybe play, like, a bit of guitar hero before passing out on the couch," he admitted.

Humming in disapproval, Savannah murmured, "Looks like I'll have to take a field trip to the Crime Lab to make sure you get a bit of my food then, hmm?"

"Oh, no you don't have to do that Ms. Cormier, it's not a big deal-"

The brunette cut him off with a wave of her hand. "First of all, you can call me Savannah or Anna. Ms. Cormier was my mama. Secondly, I'll be happy to do it. I doubt Crime Lab vending machines can even deliver a quarter of the nutrients I put into my food," she argued.

"Wow. You're just as nice as Stella said you were," Adam blurted.

Savannah finally did the one thing Don hoped she'd do.

Laugh.

"That Stella," Savannah chuckled. "It's sweet of you Adam."

Adam's shyness came back full force. "Well, you were really amazing putting that jerk in his place. I mean, to have the courage that you did, it was really cool. I mean, I wish I had that kind of courage to put someone in their place without looking stupid," he murmured.

With all her instincts firing, Savannah picked up on the unsaid words. She looked at Flack, who was thoughtful. She nodded towards the front of the cafe and he nodded in return. He understood what was going to happen and he didn't mind. Ross was cool as far as lab techs went, but he was skittish and didn't really come out of his shell often. Anna was the person to do it. He would stick around until she was done – it would be un-gentlemanly of him not to see her home safe. He edged out towards the car, giving a quick thumbs up to the cafe owner.

When the taller man was safely ensconced in his car, Savannah brought Adam down to the chairs she and Don had occupied not five minutes before. "Courage for me is speaking up for what I think, regardless of what my critics think. So I did. As for the looking stupid bit…I think everyone may have the misfortune to look stupid when they're trying to prove a point. I had the potential to look silly tonight, but thankfully it was Wright that did, and not me," she explained quietly. Like with Don, there was something about this Adam where she felt there was more to the story. But unlike the detective, the younger man's issues lay embedded for a long time – possibly since childhood. "I'm sure you have courage too. Courage is not just standing up for yourself in the face of adversity, but it's also knowing your own fear and triumphing over it. I'm quoting from a book when I say this, but the real courage is in living and suffering for what you believe."

Adam perked up at that. "That's from Eragon, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. It's a great book to read when waiting for things," Savannah replied, smiling at having found a common ground. "Have you read all the books? I'm halfway through the second."

"I have. I found the ending a little disappointing…but you might find differently."

"I'll let you know. Adam…what did you mean when you wished that you had more courage?" the brunette asked probingly, but gentle.

"Ah…well, the reason why I said it in the first place…that is, I even mentioned it at all was…er…well you see-"

"Adam, you don't have to tell me. I'm not your boss, or someone you really know," Savannah supplied helpfully. "You're not under any kind of obligation if it's personal."

Adam looked relieved, but he eagerly explained, "I just don't like bullies. For you to stand up to that detective when he was bullying you, it was an inspiration is all."

Savannah didn't buy it, but she nodded anyway. The nerves seemed to have faded from the brown haired man's mannerisms. She reached out and patted his hand reassuringly. "I'm glad you think so. Tell you what, it's getting late. I better let you get back to the ball. I'll be sure to see you soon, I want to visit the Crime Lab anyway."

"Oh. Okay then," the lab tech replied, looking a little crestfallen.

"You can still come here whenever you want. I rarely forget a face," the brunette woman said.

Adam smiled. "Oh, cool, cool. That'd be awesome, everyone's been raving about how good this place is."

"I look forward to you seeing it in the daytime."

* * *

"You were good with Adam tonight."

"Thanks. Has he always been like that? Perpetually nervous, uncertain?"

"Always," confirmed Flack. He drove the now familiar route to Savannah's apartment building, glancing over at her from time to time. "He's gotten a bit better over the years, but essentially, he's jumpier than a rabbit on a sugar high. He kinda gets nervous around authority, like Mac, but they've been on good terms. And he's crazy intelligent and helpful – he once helped me on a personal matter and let me have the time to address it before going to Mac. He's good like that," he explained further.

"He seems like such a nice guy," mused Savannah. "A gentle soul."

"I think so. Danny was talking a while back about how Adam may have been hit as a kid. Said he didn't like bullies or something," Don said.

Savannah looked at him in realisation. "So _that's_ why he was in such awe of what I did."

She had a far off look in her eyes, so the blue-eyed man let her be. She would speak again once she connected all the dots of whatever she was thinking about. He knew that he would be grateful that Adam was the one to check on them both – the lab tech had kept Savannah from wallowing too much on what that bastard Wright had said about her. It had distracted her effectively. Heck, he was still annoyed that it had happened. That he couldn't have stayed out on the dance floor with Savannah longer so she would have never heard the remarks in the first place. What he wouldn't give to turn back time to prevent the sorrow she had experienced. Flack knew that it was just his protectiveness kicking in, but he also knew that he couldn't keep everything unjust about the world from those he cared about.

"It explains so much. Poor Adam," Savannah concluded.

Flack shrugged. He knew it was probably a sad truth.

Arriving back at her apartment, Flack guided her to the door and paused. When she turned to him in a swirl of purple fabric, he smiled and quickly hugged her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'll probably see you tomorrow. I just want you to remember something. Tonight, you were very pretty, and that you were the coolest and strongest ball partner I've ever taken. Have some sweet dreams. Like Wright being strung up on top of the Chrysler Building until he composes a very wordy and sincere apology."

Giggling at the detective's silliness, Savannah replied, "I will. You've been sweet tonight."

"Don't call me sweet."

"Why not?"

"I'm a detective. Detectives are very rarely called sweet," Don pointed out.

"You're wearing a tux, you drove me home, and you don't try to silence me when I try to express myself. That counts as being sweet in my book, whether your ego likes it or not." She did that eyebrow raise that Don knew meant some kind of mischievousness. She leaned up, closer to his ear and whispered, "We'll keep it a secret between us then."

Don just gave her an inscrutable look before he smirked. "Yeah, wouldn't want it to get out and hurt my street cred."

"You _have_ street cred?"

"You think you're being funny now?"

"I don't think Don. I know."

"Now that's the fire I want to see every day," Flack approved, giving her one last smile. "I mean it, don't worry about that jerk-off. Just think of all the amazing compliments you're going to get tomorrow for being Xena."

Savannah chuckled and entered her apartment. "Good night Don. Get some sleep and dream sweet dreams."

"Good night Savannah."

And dream Flack did. Of a dark haired woman spinning in a violet dress, day and night shrouding two halves of her – the joyous and the misery. And the bright, beating heart that resided in both of them.

* * *

**A/N: **It was a harder chapter to write, but one I felt I needed to get out of the way. I would love your feedback guys, it's very important to know I'm on the right track. I know that I would have broken down completely if it was me instead of Savannah. She's too stubborn.

Also, I realised halfway through re-reading the ball scene that I forgot to mention Adam in the fic! So here he is. Sweet, bumbling, intelligent Adam.


	15. Lab Visit

**A/N: Because of the wonderful reviews from last chapter, I wrote this one pretty quickly. Thank you to smuffly, Leslie Emma, Forest Angel, and no accounter for your amazing words. I hope you like this one as well. Enjoy!**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 14 – Lab Visit**

* * *

_I've got to show the world  
All that I wanna be  
And all my abilities  
There's so much more to me_

**Diana Ross – I'm Coming Out**

* * *

A few days later, Savannah lived up to her promise to Adam and was determined to go and see her CSI friends at work. Armed with a carry bag filled with sandwiches, cookies, and some portions of gumbo, she managed to make her way to the building, bludge her way into a visitor's pass, and headed up to the 35th floor. When she stepped out of the elevator, she looked around quizzically. This was a world far different from her own. Everything looked new, scientific and so very professional.

"Anna?"

Turning, the cafe owner saw Stella. "Heya! Can you point me to your break room?"

The Grecian woman smiled, bemused. "Flack is right. You're trying to take over the world via food."

Rolling her eyes, Savannah went over to her and showed her the bounty. "Like you guys are protesting hard. It's mainly because that lab tech, Adam, mentioned that he hadn't had the chance to come and visit me. So I found a nice, easy solution. If you guys can't come to me, I'll come to you. Besides, I was bored. I went on a baking spree yesterday and now I have nothing to do, and Jacks was practically pushing me out the door. So I'm here."

Stella shrugged and led her friend to the break room. "In a way, I'm glad you actually made it here. We haven't had a chance to see you since the ball and all-"

"I'm okay. Don let me get all my anger and frustration out on a punching bag the next day when he came to pick me up for a quick gym session," Savannah supplied, seeing what looked like break room ahead, going forth and laying out her goods. She turned to look back at the CSI. "Besides, the baking spree made me feel much better as well. Baking is therapeutic for me."

Stella eyed the multitude of cookies appearing from the depths of the bag. "I can see that," she commented wryly.

"I made half of them choc chip for the sugarholics, but the other ones are oatmeal and raisin for the more health conscious. And the sandwiches are mainly salad with a kind of meat on multi-grain bread," assured the darker haired woman.

Hawkes took that moment to enter the break room. He smiled at the familiar form of Savannah. "Hey Anna. Catering for us now?"

"You wish. No, just tempting with a visit," replied Savannah. "Could you tell me where Adam is? I've got something special for him."

"I'll bring him here," Sheldon volunteered, heading back out.

Stella asked, "Should I round up the rest of the team?"

Savannah shook her head. "No, let them come in whenever they want. The food will be good for at least two hours out, but you can pop them in the fridge if you think they won't all get eaten before then."

The Grecian woman nodded and reached out, snagging a half of a sandwich for herself. "Mmm, you put that homemade onion relish on this one. I love that stuff."

"I'll let Aunt Emilie know to make more then," the cafe owner said genially.

She then poked around the cupboards, finding a suitable size soup bowl and pouring the first portion of her special shrimp gumbo into it just as Hawkes brought Adam back into the break room. She almost laughed at the surprise on the smaller man's face to see her standing there. She held up the bowl of soup and said temptingly, "I made this one just for you Adam."

"Oh wow. Anna, this is really nice of you," Adam said, smiling. As if to back up his statement, his stomach growled. Audibly.

Savannah giggled as Adam bashfully lowered his head. She pushed the meal into his hands and steered him to the nearest seat. "Eat up. You look like you haven't seen the sun for a week." In her peripheral vision, she saw Stella's expression. It seemed to say 'there she goes, acting like a mother hen.' At least Sheldon saw the sense in taking the offer of food and chose a turkey salad sandwich. He seemed to be enjoying it, so Savannah grabbed another soup bowl and tipped the other serving of gumbo into it. Adam saw it and asked with a disappointed tinge to his tone, "I thought you made it especially for me?"

"I did. That one. This one I put some chilli in it, so it wasn't especially for you," Savannah reasoned back. She said it kindly, yet firmly. Adam's lips formed an 'o' and then he shrugged. "Probably a good thing. I'm not a fan of chilli."

"But Mac is."

"Ah," muttered Adam, satisfied.

"You both have that in common. You both appear to overwork yourselves," the cafe owner pointed out from her observations about both men, unalike each other in many ways, but their dedicated work ethic was similar.

The lab tech chuckled sheepishly. "I can't help it. The things I find out sometimes are so interesting."

"I'm sure they are, but so is the real world," Savannah murmured gently. She then ruffled Adam's hair playfully. "Enjoy that. I might see you another time if you visit me."

"Will do," promised Adam eagerly. "This is great."

Bidding farewell to Stella and Sheldon, Savannah made her way to the glassed in office that Stella had briefly pointed out on their way to the break room. A few lab techs looked at her oddly, a stranger carrying soup through the lab, but she paid them no mind. Her mission was simple. See Mac.

Thankfully, he was in there, working. He looked tired, but that was nothing too unusual. Mac always looked tired lately.

Knocking quietly on the door, Savannah almost laughed at the consternation on the lead CSI's face. Her appearance in his Crime Lab had to be a major curveball for the older man. He beckoned her in, and as she entered, he asked, "Not that you're not welcome, but how on Earth did you get into my lab?"

"I told the receptionist that I was a witness that had to meet with you about the Gort case. Luckily, it worked," Savannah replied. "I figured it was the only way I'd get up here."

"Next time, tell me. I'll put you on the accepted guest list so you can come and visit us when it's appropriate," Mac admonished firmly, but his eyes were kind. Spotting the steaming bowl in his visitor's hands, he nodded towards it. "That a peace offering for me?"

"I know how much you like a spicy gumbo," grinned Savannah, setting it in front of him. Sitting opposite him, she observed, "And you look like you need the extra pep."

"You must be psychic," agreed Mac. He ate some and leaned back in his seat. "Yep, what I needed."

He worked his way through the soup as Savannah told him about the spread she had set out in the break room for all of the CSI's. When Mac teased her about Flack being jealous about the fact she had brought food to them instead of him, she snorted in amusement. "Don's a grown guy last time I checked. He can always ask me to visit him at work. I only took initiative this time because I hadn't met Adam before the night of the ball."

Mac's expression subtly changed, more compassionate. "How are you, really, after that? It was a brave thing you did, but some of it must have lingered."

"It did," acknowledged Savannah. She looked contemplative as she answered, "I'm fine now, but I know that there will be a time where I'll remember what he called me and be ashamed that it affects me the way it does. I don't want to be insecure. I want to be confident and sure. I want that thick skin to protect me, you know?"

"But I think it's because of that less than thick skin that draws people to you," pointed out the older man softly. "You give off warmth freely. You care."

"It is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness," admitted the younger woman.

Mac nodded, but his eyes narrowed in thought. "You don't believe what Wright said, do you?"

"No! Of course not," exclaimed Savannah. "But there's still that bit of doubt that hangs around like an unexpected raincloud. That, and a baking marathon yesterday got rid of the rest of the crappy mood I was in after the ball. Oh! And Don took me to a punching bag that had a picture of Wright's cop photo on it for me to get out my frustration on." She smirked at the memory. "I think he was impressed with the pulverising I gave it."

Chuckling, Mac murmured, "I'm sure."

"He was really good about me taking off."

"He likes you. He cares about you because you care about him," Mac deducted shrewdly. Seeing Savannah obviously pause in whatever she was thinking, he expanded on his thoughts. "You two have formed a bond because of circumstance and because you both share similar experiences. It's not a bad thing. I'm not condemning it. It's just showing that you've opened up to each other to become close." Savannah was carefully neutral now, so Mac tried a different track to make his point. "Anna, your reaction at the ball spoke of past pain – pain that Don would no doubt understand. I don't want to pry…I'm just saying that anyone with good deducing skills would pick up on it."

"You're right," Savannah admitted. "Wright's piggish sexist speech reminded me of a bad ex-boyfriend, Don knows of it. But that's not all. He knows more. Enough. But not all," she said cryptically.

"You don't think I've known you long enough to know?"

"It's not about the length of time. I just don't like talking about the negative things, even if they are cathartic for me," replied the cafe owner quietly, fiddling with the strap of her bag. She met Mac's eyes and, seeing the vaguely disgruntled expression, said, "Mac, I will let you know that I see you as a bit of a father-figure – the kind of man I would have imagined my own father to be. He died when I was six, while we still lived in New Orleans."

Frowning, Mac asked, "Can you tell me about him?"

"There's nothing much to tell. He was a cop with the New Orleans PD and one day while patrolling, he noticed that a kid got his foot stuck in a grate in the middle of the side street. He saw that a truck driver was heading right for the child. He ran to rescue the kid, and he did. He got the kid out of the way just in time, but it was too late for him. I only have vague memories of him, but it still sucked to be one of the only girls in school once we moved to Hampton to not have a daddy," Savannah described, still quiet and musing. "From what I remember, he was a little like you. Stern, but he was a firm believer in the justice system."

"Which is why you give discount to cops. You were affected by what your father did," surmised the CSI.

"I have respect for all police because of my father's selfless actions. I know firsthand how hard the life of a cop is, and for their families, biological or not."

They both pondered on that thought for a few moments. After, Savannah silently got up and came around, draping her arms around Mac's shoulders in a hug. "Thanks Mac."

"For what?"

"For not throwing me out of here," she replied jokingly. Mac smirked at that, and she continued, "For dragging Don back to the cafe that day. For being a cool person in general."

"You are very welcome," reciprocated Mac, patting her arm.

"Now, I'll get going. I think I've interrupted your work long enough," Savannah said. Waggling her fingers in a wave, she departed, leaving Mac more convinced than ever that she could potentially be the one that Flack would fall for.

* * *

Lindsay walked into the break room, thumbing through trace results when she noticed Danny with his back to her. Raising an eyebrow, she crept towards her husband and peered around his shoulder to see what he was trying to hide from the rest of the lab. Her eyes widened at the size of the cookies in the container in his hands. The petite woman immediately knew who made those.

Clearing her throat, Lindsay watched in amusement as Danny jumped, whirling around and trying to hide the sweets behind his back.

"Hey babe!" he said cheerily.

"You're a traitor."

Sighing, knowing the jig was up, Danny held up his hands and moved away from the bench. "They're all yours."

Lindsay grinned, reaching up to bring him down for a brief kiss before snatching one of the cookies. "Mmm," she moaned softly. "Oatmeal and raisin. Even when they're healthier they taste amazing. I thought she would have brought in the chocolate chip ones."

Danny pouted. "She did, but I only got the last one. I think everyone else got to them first. I swore I saw Mac hiding one in his jacket pocket as I came in."

Giggling, the shorter woman plucked another cookie from the container. "Maybe we should re-make that offer Danny…see if Savannah wants to live with us," she teased, thoroughly enjoying the cookie. When she met her husband's eyes next, they were intense on hers. "What?" she mumbled.

"I'm just thinkin', you know, as soon as we get off shift…you, me, a box of those cookies and an old sheet for the bed in case we spill any crumbs."

"I agree. Remind me to do something nice for Anna later," murmured Lindsay with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, definitely."

* * *

**A/N: I don't know what possessed me to write that last scene. I thought I'd be a cute and funny way of showing those two. It's how I picture them being. Regardless, feedback is always appreciated. **

**Up next: A murder, a talk, and dinner. **


	16. Harsh and Warmth

**A/N: Thank you so much to no accounter, smuffly, Annabella Colt, guest, and bjq. You guys are seriously rockin' out those reviews. Thank you to those who continue to follow the fic. Now, onward into the depths of human depravity unknown!**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, descriptions of violence, blood and gore.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 15 – Harsh and Warmth**

* * *

_Maybe no one told you  
There is strength in your tears  
And so you fight to keep from pouring out  
But what if you unlock the gate that keeps your secret soul  
Do you think there's enough to that you might drown?_

**Kelly Clarkson – If No One Will Listen**

* * *

Flack was tired. It was an hour until it was the end of a long night shift. It was 4am and it had been relatively quiet on the crime front. He had only two callouts, one was a fake and the other was a round of domestic abuse that was still going on when he and a couple of unis got to the residence. It had been a tedious affair, the girlfriend of the abuser caught between wanting to get him arrested and defending him that it was 'because she made him angry.'

It had been difficult, considering that he knew of a stronger woman than that. Although not unfeeling to her pain, he wanted to tell her to come to her senses and realise that it was no fault of her own, but her boyfriend's.

Now, he was stuck with his old enemy.

Paperwork.

Good thing he was almost done too. He was about ready to tear his hair out.

He was just signing off on the report for the domestic abuse when his phone lit up with a call. Wearily, he answered with his usual, "Flack."

It was dispatch, notifying him of a homicide crime scene on Lafayette and informing him that two CSI's would be headed there as well. He ended the call, hiding his irritation. If that call had come in just 45 minutes later, he wouldn't have to worry about it, tucked up at home. Looked like overtime was on its way. Gathering his things, he put his exhaustion behind him. Someone had been murdered. It was his duty to help find out why and to protect the city from another wacko.

Arriving, he was glad to see Danny and Lindsay pull up alongside him.

"Hey, haven't caught up with the first on scene yet. While I do that, you want to check out the body?" Flack called out to the couple.

"Sure thing," Lindsay replied.

As they ducked under the crime scene tape, Don got his first good look at the body. He grimaced at the sight of the young woman, slain brutally on the hard concrete floor of the dingy, dark apartment. He went over to the officer, asked the standard questions, noting it all down in his memo book, and then turning back to the CSI's. "According to first on scene, it was an anonymous 911 call that tipped them off. Apparently a male voice saying 'Ding, dong, the bitch is dead,' before hanging up. Dispatch traced it and now we're here."

Danny crouched at the victim's blonde head. "Whoever killed her did it with a lot of rage," he observed. The act was indeed grisly, showing the woman had died painfully. Multiple stab wounds to her upper torso, and there was clear blood tracks, in sharp relief to the victims pale skin, pouring from a gouged out eye. The blood pool was large and had already begun to congeal sickly. Danny took a swab, confirming it was all blood. "Yeah, this bastard must have been angry."

"And I think I know why," Lindsay murmured softly, her eyes fixated on the woman's stomach area. She pointed it out to the two men. "Look at her belly. It's just a bit curved. I think she was pregnant…could be enough for motive." She looked around quickly, spying something white in the nearby bin. Gloved up, she reached forward to pick it up and shone her flashlight on it. Her suspicions were confirmed when she showed the object to her fellow detectives.

It was a pregnancy test, showing a positive result.

Flack looked down with pity at the victim, shaking his head slightly. He had no quip, no words for so ugly an act.

It seemed that his friends were the same, for they processed the scene quietly, gathering whatever they could. The one positive Lindsay had noted was that there were traces of foreign blood and skin underneath the victim's fingernails which may have belonged to her killer.

Finished, Danny asked, "You reckon this is as obvious as it seems Flack?"

"Typical boyfriend/husband not wanting a baby to burden them. Or perhaps this girl was something on the side, and a love child would be bad for the lover," he theorised aloud. "That's my best bet."

"Mine too."

What followed for Flack, Danny and Lindsay was that one shift turned into nearly a triple.

Their tireless efforts paid off when DNA came back surprisingly quick on the trace underneath the victims fingernails. Uniforms rounded the perp up quickly too, as they had found him at work, polishing cars as if nothing was wrong. Flack now stood outside the interviewing room, centreing himself. It was days like this he had no patience for the scum of the earth. He was doing this alone, though. He felt like Danny and Lindsay, had they been in there together, would have ripped the guy's head off for being so callous.

Taking a deep breath, Don strode in, no-nonsense cop face on.

"Victor Potts, you know why you're here, don't you?" he asked briskly.

"No. I don't," the blonde haired man shrugged, but his brown eyes were calculating.

"You don't?"

"Nope. Unless, you know, I parked the wrong way at work."

"Nah, but I think you've been smelling too many petrol fumes. I think it's screwed up your head a little bit Vicky," Don countered, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. He refused to sit and be at eye level with this guy. He saw his light insult hit a nerve, for 'Vicky' tensed up. "Try again," he stated.

Potts scowled. "Are you the bad cop? I want the good cop," he whined.

Flack rolled his eyes and threw a folder on the table. "Maybe this can shed some light on things Vicky, I'll start the fractured fairytale. See, Vicky had a little girlfriend who's hair was blonde as peroxide. Everywhere that Vicky went, the girlfriend was sure to go. And Vicky and girlfriend must have done the nasty a few too many times for along came a baby to cramp his style. You see where I'm going?" he demanded icily.

Potts just glared at him.

"So what did you do? Bianca, your girlfriend, calls you up, tells you to come over, and off you go thinking about having a little something-something, only she puts a wet blanket on the evening by telling you that you're going to be an impending daddy, is that right?"

"I have the right to remain silent."

"You may, but the evidence is speakin' all kinds of languages to me," Flack retorted, flipping open the folder. He pushed a picture of the trace underneath Potts' nose. "That there? Is your DNA."

"She's a scratcher, Bianca. Loves to grip onto my shoulders," Potts replied, snarky.

Flack's eyes narrowed. "Right. That's so _very_ convincing."

"It's truth. I didn't touch Bianca. She told me she was pregnant and that I had done it to her, and I left. I broke up with her."

"Killing is one hell of a way to break up," Don drawled caustically.

"You got nothing!"

Flack smirked mirthlessly. "Wrong. We have everything. We have your DNA under her fingernails, evidence that the baby was, in fact, yours, your fingerprints on the pregnancy test, and last, but certainly not least…" he drew out a picture from underneath the stack and dropped it carelessly on the table. "This bloodied buck knife we found wrapped in a t-shirt in the bottom of your apartment dumpster when we arrested you hours ago. CSI's put a rush on it, and what do you know! No other DNA or fingerprints apart from you and your girlfriend Bianca."

Potts stared blankly at the picture of the knife. He tensed up further, rigid on the hard chair. The detective stared at the guy in distain, the wrongness of the bastard's actions roiling away within him.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

Potts finally looked up, his whole face disgusted and furious. "That bitch got what she deserved…getting knocked up on me. Like I was going to pay for another mouth to feed! Another thing to keep my attention away from making money and chicks!"

Flack gripped the back of a chair tightly, fighting the urge to just punch the guy. "Last time I checked, _Vicky_, it takes two to tango. It's not her fault. You are to be charged with the murder of Bianca Tlosce and with the wrongful death of an unborn person."

Potts curled his lip, snarling, as Flack slapped handcuffs on him and led him away to a nice, uncomfortable, brightly lit cell.

After the drama was over, Flack finally retired to his desk, dropping down in his chair wearily. God, he was tired. It was now 9pm…it was 16 hours longer than he had meant to stay because of this case. They got lucky that Potts had been in the system and that he had been stupid enough to leave as much evidence as he did. Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed his captain coming up to him.

"You look down in the mouth kid," the grizzled old Captain Haplan muttered.

"On shift for a full day'll do it."

"Take a day. Go home, get some rest, and don't come back until the day after tomorrow, yeah? You did some great work on the Tlosce case, getting it wrapped up so quickly, you deserve it. Perhaps go and visit that wonderful cafe in the morning," Haplan recommended.

Flack managed a tired smile. "Sure. I'll see you on Thursday then."

Haplan nodded and urged him away with a flick of his hand.

Relief filled his body as he made his way home. Upon getting there, he checked his voicemail messages. One was from Danny, inviting him over tomorrow night for dinner. Looks like they had the fortune to get a day off as well tomorrow. The second was from his ma, telling him of what she and his dad were doing on the cruise. The third was, surprisingly, from Savannah.

"_Hey stranger. Stella and Adam came past today and told me you were working a double on this murder case. I hope you catch whoever did it. I know you'll be busy, so don't fret about trying to get here because you don't want to disappoint me. Rest. I'll see you when you have time. That's why they invented phones, no?"_

Don ruefully grinned. It _had_ crossed his mind several times today to swing past Anna's cafe for a pick me up, simply because he was used to going there so often. Instead, he had to be content with the sludge they called coffee in the precinct reception and a protein bar. It had been a very unsatisfying way of sustaining himself.

Her message kept him awake a little while longer.

Maybe…to make up for it he should bring her along to Danny and Lindsay's apartment for dinner. It would be nice to have her there. She was already feeling like part of the 'gang' as it is.

He felt a little headache form behind his eyes, reminding him of his tiredness. He would call her tomorrow. Before settling down to fall asleep, he glanced at the picture of Jess. For the first time, he felt no pain, only a numbness.

* * *

Unfortunately, sleep would be elusive for Don Flack that night.

He woke up screaming three hours later at 1am, looking around wildly. His breathing was rapid and a cold sheen of sweat slicked his limbs. Throwing the covers off, he blindly headed for his balcony, unlocking the door and stepping out, the night air waking him up fully. He braced himself on the iron railing, his head hanging low between his shoulders.

It wasn't Jess that night. He hadn't recalled her death in his dreams for a over a month now.

No. It had been a macabre parade of dead bodies haunting him. From 9/11 – seeing the horror, helping people through the dust and death cloying the air, to the everyday depravity that he witnessed. Bianca Tlosce was prominent, as was the woman that Clay Dobson killed, Anne Steele, and countless other female victims. And then, seeing his own near death experience when Mac had saved his life after a bomb blast took a chunk out of his innards. Shuddering despite the odd coolness of a May night, Don attempted to push all of the thoughts away. He felt more weary than ever.

He sat, not bothering to go back inside to get something more decent to cover his wife beater and sleep pants, and ran his hand over his face, scraping away what little sweat was left.

Looking out towards the view he had of the river and bridge, Don took deep breaths, unable to calm his racing heart. "Shit," he muttered to himself. Just when he thought he was doing fine, his conscious had to royally screw him over. All he wanted was to rest, and he couldn't even do that right.

Heavy hearted, he knew what he had to do. He didn't want to, because he would be sure to disturb someone else's rest.

Making his way back inside, he fumbled for his cell, finally grabbing it with slightly shaking hands and going back to feel the elements of nature.

Flack punched in the number, a pressure in his chest making itself known as it rang. Part of him wanted her to pick up, the other wanted her to dream on, probably peaceful in her own bed.

He almost gave up on the bud of hope when a sleepy, recognisable voice answered. "Hello?"

"Savannah…hi."

"Don. Do you know what time it is?"

Flack flushed. This was a bad idea. "Yeah, I'm so sorry. I…I'll just let you get back to rest."

"Don't you dare hang up on me mister!" Savannah cried out through the phone, more awake than before. "You woke me up for a reason. I want to know."

"I'm really sorry," he repeated contritely.

"I accept your apology," she replied in a tender tone. "If you tell me why you called, I promise not to withhold dessert privileges."

The teasing threat lifted Don's mood a little, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just…nightmares."

"And after you were working a double too."

"Yeah."

"Was it about Jess?" Savannah asked kindly.

Flack leaned back, pressing the phone closer to his ear as if to absorb Savannah's personal warmth through it as he answered. "No. It was like a movie montage of the shit that happens. It was like a horror movie. It just…completely fucked with my head," he confessed honestly.

Savannah made a low humming noise that soothed him. "Of course it would," she said thoughtfully. "You're not expected to be a machine, Don. You're human. You feel things. And while you may not forget them, it's okay. It shows that you're not unfeeling to what you do and see. It takes a strong person to be a homicide detective."

"Thanks Anna."

"Would you like to talk about it some more? Or would you like something to distract you?" she asked plainly.

Don hesitated, and then forged ahead. "I want to talk about it a bit more. And then you can distract me." Hearing her okay it, he said, "The first thing I dreamed was about 9/11. I was on patrol when the planes hit. I made my way downtown when…when they collapsed. The rest of the world should be very glad they weren't in New York that day. It's been a constant ghost in the back of our minds ever since. And then…you know, it's scary to know how many times a woman is a victim."

"Because we are seen as the weaker gender."

"But in many cases, you're not. True, that's how it's seen," Don replied. "And the last bit was about the worst injury I ever received."

Savannah was silent, absorbing this all. She then asked, "How bad?"

"Let's put it this way. Three years ago, Mac had to go into my guts to tie off an artery with a shoe lace. If he hadn't, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now," the blue eyed man stated dully. He heard Savannah gasp and he wished that he hadn't been so loose with what he told. He didn't want her to pity him. Luckily, she seemed to understand that.

"What made that happen?" she asked in a shell-shocked tone.

"Mac and I were clearing a building under a bomb threat when it suddenly went off. I caught the biggest part of the blast," Flack answered quietly.

Savannah, away in her own apartment, brought a hand to her mouth and stifled another gasp. With everything that Don told her about himself and his past, she felt even more pull to him. They both had scars. They both lost those they had loved. And they both were stubborn, determined people who had rough days. Shifting in her covers, she murmured, "You are lucky then."

"Yeah. That's what the doctors said."

"Would you like that distraction right now?" Savannah asked sombrely.

Don made a noise of affirmation, wondering what kind of story she would tell him.

There was silence on the line for about a moment, before a feminine throat was cleared and Savannah sang out clearly, "_All you do is call me, I'll be anything you need_."

Don immediately recognised the tune and a reluctant smile blossomed over his face while Savannah continued to sing.

"_You could have a big dipper going up and down, all around the bends…you could have a bumper car, bumping, this amusement never ends_." She paused to snicker a little. "_I want to be your sledgehammer. Why don't you call my name?"_

"Anna," Don replied.

"_Oh let me be your sledgehammer, this will be my testimony. Show me round your fruitcage 'cos I will be your honey bee. Open up your fruitcage, where the fruit is as sweet as can be_."

Don finally cracked, chuckling when Savannah trailed off into silence. He wiped away a tear of delirious laughter and murmured, "I should have known. You told me you weren't going to let me live it down."

"But it was effective," bantered Savannah.

Don liked the sound of her singing voice. It was good, strong. He made his request known before he caught himself. "Do you know the song 'Red Rain?'"

"I do. Do you want me to-"

"Please," entreated Don, getting up to flop back down on his bed. He waited with bated breath for the sound of her rich, melodic voice to wash over him. When she began, the tight anxiety that had banded across his chest eased. The lyrics washed over him, reminding him of when he had tried to help Sam that night he found out she was going to AA. Although a frown marred his features, he relaxed.

"_Well I've seen them buried in a sheltered place in this town  
They tell you that this rain can sting, and look down  
There is no blood around see no sign of pain  
Hey-ey-ey no pain  
Seeing no red at all, see no rain_

_Red rain is coming down_  
_Red rain_  
_Red rain is pouring down_  
_Pouring down all over me_

_Red rain-_  
_Putting the pressure on much harder now_  
_To return again and again_  
_Just let the red rain splash you_  
_Let the rain fall on your skin_  
_I come to you defences down_  
_With the trust of a child_…"

When she finished singing, Savannah listened hard, trying to see if the tall detective had fallen asleep. "Don?" she called softly.

"Still here. Just."

"Feeling better?"

"Much. You've been real good tonight," he answered. It was true – he felt himself growing closer to her each time they saw each other, with every conversation they had. "You knew exactly what to do…and it's rare to find someone who will do that – who's not related to you anyway." He cleared his throat. "So thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"I'll let you go, Anna. I bet you're tired," Flack prompted, giving her an out.

"I am. You sound better."

"Good night then."

"See you soon, Don."

* * *

That night, Flack was walking up to Danny and Lindsay's apartment when he saw Savannah just up ahead of him, carrying something in her hands. He smirked. He smelt cake. It was a great bonus for Savannah being able to come tonight after he called her later in the morning – when the time was appropriate. He hadn't actually had the chance to see her at the cafe today. Seeing her flooded him with an unexpected warmth. He couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion, and it made him pause. He then quickly dismissed it.

"Anna," he called out, making the dark hair swish as she turned around to look at him.

A brilliant smile aimed his way brought that warmth on stronger. It confused him, but he didn't show it, instead moving forward so he was next to her. "Mmm, got some more goodies huh?"

"Carrot cake," Savannah confirmed, holding up the container. "I thought perhaps something a little less indulgent than usual on account of Lucy. I don't want to give her too much sugar."

"Lucy doesn't need sugar. I swear, that kid is high on life."

Savannah's laughter filled the hallway as they continued their journey. "Nice. I might have to steal that line, it's a good one."

"You like that?"

"I like that. I like even more that you are in better spirits than at 1am this morning."

Flack smirked sheepishly. "Yeah, well, I know this totally awesome woman who lets me call her up at that time without too much of a tongue lashing. She talks to me, sings to me, and happens to be a fantastic cook. You know of anyone like that?"

Savannah's smile widened and she playfully nudged him with her hip. "Charmer."

Don tramped down the urge to grin like a fool. He turned to look at her, admiring the loose curls and the beatific expression she wore. It struck him that she was just as pretty now as she was on the night of the dance, but with less make up. Feeling chivalrous, he asked, "You want me to carry that up the next flight?" He gestured to the cake holder.

Savannah glanced at him, bemused. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I think we're here."

Flack looked around. Oh. While they were joking he must have missed the fact they were standing in front of Danny and Lindsay's door. He fought the urge to smack his own forehead for being unobservant. He just shrugged, brushing it off and knocking on the door. Danny could be heard through it, just before it swung open to reveal the smiling man.

"Hey, look who's here!" he announced, sounding relaxed and youthful, stepping out of the way so his friends could make their way in.

There was a girlish cry and soon a little dirty blonde headed toddler ran awkwardly into Don's legs. Flack grinned as he leaned down and picked up the one year old, swinging her high into the air before settling her into his arms. He pulled a funny face, making Lucy giggle. "Hey Lucy-Lu, have you been a good girl?"

"Yeah Unca!" the little girl exclaimed.

Don cuddled his unofficial niece, playfully rubbing their noses together and kissing her cheek. "I've got a friend with me. Her name is Anna. Can you wave to her for me?"

Savannah stepped forward, waving at Lucy. Lucy looked a little shy, but waved back.

"Hi Lucy. I've heard a lot about you from your mama and papa when they visit my cafe," the brunette woman murmured softly as to not cause Lucy to shy away from her. The girl seemed to deem her trustworthy enough in her young mind, for she smiled in response. Don carefully placed the toddler down and she toddled off, babbling, "Mama, mama."

"She's adorable Danny," Savannah complimented, smiling after the little girl.

"Yeah, she's our little bundle of joy," Danny replied, pride filling his voice. "Linds was such a trooper – I got to see the whole labour. I kinda understand why some people say it's a beautiful thing."

As Danny directed them to sit at the dining table, Lindsay popped her head out of the kitchen and smiled. "Nice to see you both came. Dinner is almost ready. Hope you both like lamb."

Don and Danny licked their lips, causing the women to laugh at their insatiable appetites. Lucy was placed in her high chair by the taller man while Savannah tried to argue her way into helping Lindsay finishing off and bringing out the plates. The Messer's vehemently refused, reiterating that she was their guest for tonight. Reluctantly sitting back down, the dark haired woman took the time to observe the family home.

It was all too evident that a child lived there. Various finger paintings and scribbles decorated the wall in clear plastic frames, along with family pictures of the trio which Savannah smiled at. There was a cabinet with awards in it, and an entertainment area with more kids dvd's than anything else. It was a warm and cosy place, and she could see the influence of Danny in the framed and signed picture of the Yankee's, and of Lindsay with the wide, low red couch filled with plump cushions. It all worked well in harmony.

Danny, playing the gregarious host, brought beer and lemonade to the table.

"Okay, the reason why we're doing this is because we need some serious fun right now. I'm talkin' uno, monopoly, singstar, anything you think of after dinner. I want to get some happy time in," he pronounced determinedly.

"Bad case?" Savannah asked curiously.

"Like you wouldn't believe," chimed in Lindsay, bringing a tray of steamed green bean casserole.

Savannah nodded, taking a sip of the lemonade before toasting her hosts, "To the pursuit of ridiculous happiness, fun, and games." Everyone clinked their respective drinks together before the shorter woman hurried back into the kitchen to fetch the side of lamb she had encrusted with herbs and slow roasted throughout the day. Bringing it out, Lindsay relished at the 'ohs' and 'ahs' she got from Don and Anna. Danny grinned at her, taking over the cutting the meat on the chopping board and serving the guests first.

"And here I was thinking you have no manners," Savannah teased playfully.

Danny winked at her, smirking in reply.

Don smiled at Lindsay. "Nice work. If this is anything like the last time you made this dish, this is going to be good. Might give Savannah a run for her money."

"Oh would you stop it?" Lindsay chided gently. They then got down to the serious business of eating while Lucy babbled happily to herself in her high chair. Savannah did hilariously bad impressions of her customers while Lindsay told of the pranks she used to play on boys in high school who wouldn't get the point she wasn't interested in them. Don shared some of the more outlandish moments of being a detective, such as an interview with a man in the neighbouring apartment to a murder that wore mardi gras style outfits around the house in eye watering shades of neon, while Danny regaled them all about his brief baseball career.

Savannah made sure to compliment Lindsay on the food as much as she could without seeming sycophantic. She could tell it paid off, with the shorter woman beaming all around.

As they were finishing off some slices of Savannah's carrot cake, Lucy began to fuss, rubbing her fists into her eyes. Quickly picking up on it, Lindsay picked her daughter up and said, "Okay, looks like someone's had enough excitement for one evening. You wanna say goodnight Lucy?"

Adorably, Lucy waved goodbye, too sleepy to reply in her rudimentary English. The rest of the adults waved back at her.

Once the child was settled, as Danny suggested, they played card games and simply talked as good friends do.

Throughout the night, Flack noticed he was looking at Savannah more and more. He was trying to figure out that lightness in his heart that had become more insistent with every day – ever since the disastrous ball. Luckily, he wasn't the only one. He would catch her glimpsing him in the corner of her eye. He pushed the thoughts out of his head. It wasn't more than an warm friendship, and Savannah was merely checking on his mood from time to time.

For Savannah, she couldn't get out of her mind the picture of Don with Lucy, cradling and talking to her.

It was the cutest thing she had ever seen him do.

She watched him, careful to make sure that she wasn't being too obvious. Truthfully, she had missed him not coming to see her in the past three days. The sight of his profile made butterflies swoop in the pit of her stomach.

The night wound down after a rousing game of Monopoly, and Don and Savannah left lighter than before.

"Wow," Savannah murmured happily as they made their way down the stairs. "I haven't had that much fun at someone's place in a while."

"I had fun too."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Only because you beat us all at Monopoly. Your gloating was funny for the first two seconds before you went on and on about your 'row of death.'"

"Sore loser."

"Big shot."

"Insulter."

"Flatterer."

Flack grinned then, casually draping an arm around her shoulders and steering her outside. "You need to let go of the fact that I needed to buy you out on Park Ave in order to get yourself out of debt," he teased.

"I should have charged you more," she grumbled.

He laughed and headed for his car. "Wanna ride?"

"If I say no, you'll insist, so my only option is yes," Savannah replied pointedly, while Don gave her an unrepentant grin.

"That's right."

"Jeez, one Monopoly win and you're practically too big for your boots!" she exclaimed, poking fun at his attitude.

"Rematch then?"

"Another time. And I will beat you next time Donald Flack."

Flack winced. "You had to say my full name, didn't you?"

Savannah smirked, enjoying the debate. "Yep. Now your gloating doesn't seem that bad."

"I'll let you get away with that one, but next time the full name is going to get you some serious pranks," Don warned half-seriously.

Savannah merely laughed. "Challenge accepted."

* * *

**A/N: I know right? Starting off all heavy and gravity filled and then….sunshine, lollipops and rainbows everywhere. *looks at muse* I don't know what the hell she was thinking. But I liked the part where Savannah sings Red Rain.**

**As always, any and all feedback is wonderful!**


	17. Sam

**A/N: Thank you so much to those who put in the effort to review: smuffly, guest/noaccounter, Annabella Colt, and Leslie Emm. You guys are honestly fantastic and keep me going. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 16 – Sam**

* * *

Mid-afternoon was a good time for the Comfort Cafe. It wasn't busy, but it wasn't slow either.

Mothers were picking their children up from various schools and stopped in either before or after the pick up to grab a coffee and some cake. There were those who were having late lunches or a quick rejuvenating coffee or tea before heading into their places of work for the late shift. It was when Savannah had taken the tray of raspberry-coconut slice from Harper and headed out to place it in the cake cabinet when she heard the low timbre of Flack over the low-level of hubbub.

Another voice was with him. "Donnie, why've you brought me here? This doesn't look like your usual scene."

"Trust me, when you taste the food here, you'll understand," came the confident reply.

Savannah took her head out of the cabinet, going over to the till as Don and a younger woman approached. She noticed the similarities in their facial features and surmised that this was his sister that he had talked about from time to time.

"Hiya," she greeted. "What do you feel like?"

"Caramel milkshake and whatever sweet thing you want to give me. Sam?" Don turned to his sister.

Sam shrugged and replied, "Cappuccino and a toasted turkey cranberry and avo sandwich."

The cafe owner nodded dutifully and took down the order, waving away Flack's attempt to pay with a promise of 'later.' As the siblings went and sat at Flack's usual table, Savannah began their order, but not without shrewdly watching the two. Sam's eyes kept darting around the place whenever she wasn't looking at her brother, and she was fiddling with a dull silver medallion of some kind. Her behaviour conveyed nervousness. Don kept trying to engage his sister in conversation, but she seemed reluctant and gave short answers.

Savannah gave them some time to converse before she made their way over with their order. Usually, she would stay with the blue-eyed detective for a chat, but she didn't want to intrude on family time. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he gestured for her to pull up a chair.

"Here you both go," Savannah said, placing the meals and drinks down.

"Thanks," mumbled Sam.

Flack gave a brief look of exasperation at his sister, before he turned to the brunette beside him and formally introduced them. "Anna, this is my sister Samantha. Sam, this is my friend Savannah. As you can see, she owns this place."

"Nice to meet you," Savannah greeted cheerfully, holding out her hand.

Sam took it, wariness written all over her face. "You too. Don's only had good things to say about you on the brief times he's mentioned you to me."

If Savannah was surprised that Flack had mentioned her at all to his family, she didn't show it. She merely nodded and asked, "So what brings you over to this end of town?"

There was an awkward pause from the two Flack's then, and Savannah sensed it was a touchy issue and that it was probably best if she left the table. Obviously, they weren't comfortable enough with her there. She made to get up when Don's warm hand grasped her elbow, holding her in place. His eyes flicked to Sam and he sighed. "We're kind of celebrating in a way. It's been four months since Sam had her last drink of some kind of alcohol. We just got away from the AA meeting."

The odd behaviour from Sam made sense now.

Savannah disengaged long enough from the detective's grasp to go over to the counter, pick something up and bring it back to the table. "Did they give you one of these?" she asked quietly.

In her flour dusted hands lay a lay a chain with a dull silver medallion similar to the one Sam was holding. Imprinted clearly on the surface were the words 'to thine own self be true.' There was an odd sense of amusement seeing two sets of blue eyes stare incredulously at the medallion. She tucked it away in her pocket and sat down, waiting for the inevitable question.

"You went?" Sam questioned curiously, hesitant.

Savannah nodded. "Yep. Around the age of 22. I had just gone through a tough time and for a month I drank myself stupid each night. I had a friend, Amanda, who pulled me out of it and dragged me along to AA meetings. When I made the four month mark without touching a drop, I was given a medallion. I learned the hard way that the bottle is never a way to drown sorrows. A friendly, open ear and heart of another is."

Sam looked a bit cynical, but Don was looking at her in mingled surprise and pride.

"Another person might not always want to listen to your problems," Sam pointed out.

"Why do you say that?"

Sam seemed to shrink in herself, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It seems like everyone's so…perfect," she admitted hollowly.

Savannah fought the urge to laugh, instead shaking her head slightly. This girl had it all wrong. "That isn't true. Often the people who seem the most perfect have something to hide, whether it is something sad or wrong, or are otherwise boring. Or if they're perfect, they are, and they have no friends or happiness. I wouldn't want to be around someone who is seemingly 'perfect.'"

"So you think talking about problems will fix everything in life?" the younger woman asked acidly.

"Sam," Don said warningly, his gaze flicking between the two women.

"It helps!" Savannah protested. She frowned. "I wouldn't be here happy as I am if I didn't talk to people to help me with my problems."

A bitter laugh erupted from Sam's lips, and she looked back towards her brother. "This is why you brought me here, isn't it? So you can have this pseudo shrink come and psychoanalyse me. Nice work, bro."

"I didn't bring you here for that!" Flack cried, aggravated. "Anna is making a valid point."

"You're on her side." Sam closed her eyes and pouted like a child. "You are always ganging up against me."

The cafe owner couldn't understand it. Here she was thinking that perhaps sharing her experiences would entice the younger Flack to open up a bit, and now she was having to defend it. "I am not a shrink. I just happen to _care_ about people," Savannah said lowly, keeping her temper in check. "You are the sibling of someone I care very much about. Pardon me for trying to help you. I'm so sorry that I offended you by opening up to you just that slightest bit so your barbs could pierce through." She caught a glimpse of blue eyes snapping open in surprise before she rose and headed for the kitchen, not looking back. She didn't stop until she was in the cool-room, bracing herself up against the wall.

Sighing, Savannah muttered to herself, "Remember, you can't heal the world girl. You can't help them all."

Sitting on an upturned crate, she managed to calm herself by checking her stock. After ten minutes had passed, she finally felt somewhat normal again. A knock echoed throughout the cool-room before Harper stuck his head in. "Ya a'ight Miss Anna?"

"All good Harper," Savannah confirmed, making her way out and patting the young man on the back. "Thanks."

Back in the main cafe area, Savannah was disappointed to see that Samantha had left, leaving Don, spent with exasperation. Frown lines creased his forehead and he looked up, blue eyes piercing her. "Hey. Sorry about all that. She's been a bit…volatile lately. She asked me to apologise for her behaviour – she said she judged you wrong." He paused and then the corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile. "Something we both did."

"It's understandable," the brunette replied, sitting opposite him. Mentioning to the empty plate, she pointed out positively, "At least she ate."

"True. But then again, I thought she was going to bolt the second I picked her up from the meeting," Don admitted.

"Because she thinks you're perfect in comparison."

"But I'm not."

"I know that," placated Savannah, taking hold of one of Flack's strong hands. "But she feels inferior. A screw up. I could tell from the second she started questioning me. I knew there was something that she was not proud of, in the way that she fidgeted before I came to the table. It's not something you can help other than constant reminders to Sam that you're there for her if she needs it."

Don huffed out a breath of air and squeezed the hand holding his own. "It's hard, you know?"

The cafe owner hesitated before saying, "I'd know about life being hard, but not about having to be strong for a sibling."

"Regardless, the way you picked up on how Sam felt is incredible," praised the detective. "It's scary the way you pick up on how people are – how they feel, whether they are a good person or not based on instinct…"

"I'm sure other people have gut feeling."

"Not like you." Flack looked around the cafe, for something to prove his point. He then caught sight of a middle-aged man in a booth near the front of the cafe. Mentioning with his head, he said, "That guy, for example. A week or so ago he was in, and I was eating here at my usual seat when he came up to the counter. And you didn't act like you normally do. You were stiff, formal, and your smile was fixed. Why?"

Savannah didn't look happy that she had been observed in such a fashion, but she answered, "There was something not right about him."

"Explain. C'mon, I know you can tell me more," Don probed.

Savannah rolled her eyes. "You are so pushy, but fine. When I looked up and saw his eyes, there was something dark in them. He definitely has something to hide. And…my insides just _clenched_ and I had the strangest want to run away," she replied slowly.

Flack nodded slightly. "Well, your instincts were bang on."

"Huh?"

"That guy? He's a lawyer, and was wanted for the rape of the daughter of one of his clients. The whole case was based on her testimony, but she was killed in a car crash before she could do it. The case got tossed because the evidence just wasn't good enough, and the defence put on a dog and pony show that left the jury confused enough for reasonable doubt," Flack explained, watching Savannah's eyes widen with the information given. He had almost not wanted to tell her, but he felt she had a right to know.

"No wonder," she breathed.

"Yeah. You know, with instincts like that, you could be a great asset when it comes to crime fighting or something to do with counselling. Have you ever thought of it? You know, not doing the cafe thing?" Don questioned curiously.

Savannah shook her head, an amused half-smile pulling at her lips. "No. This is all I know. But I'm happy here. Without this job, I would have never met such amazing people."

Something about that didn't sit right with the detective. "Anna, I think you have some great potential with that instinct. You gel with most people instantly, and if you don't, it's for a good reason. I just think that perhaps there might be something more for you."

"Don-"

"No, let's look at the evidence," he cut her off, "You gave _me_ a chance after my absolute pig-headedness towards you, you let Bloc work here and he does seem to be on the straight and narrow, and when Adam came to check on you, you picked up on the very character of him easily, and now the lawyer. That instinct? It's gold. It made you run when Wallace hurt you, and in our training sessions with Monty, you're using it to make some amazing self-defence moves."

"Don," Savannah broke into his enthusiastic speech softly. "Although that's true, I can't really imagine doing anything other than this. Food is my passion. It's in my blood." Seeing his disgruntled expression, she smiled at him. "It's sweet that you think of me so highly though."

"Savannah, I think the world of you," Flack blurted.

Their eyes met then, grey-green to blue as Savannah blushed. "Would you stop complimenting me? Do you _like_ it when my face looks like a beetroot?" she joked through her bashfulness.

Don just smiled at her. He was about to reply with some more playful banter when Jacks called out, "Hey Anna, can I go on break?"

Savannah could have cursed out her cousin just then, but she merely turned and replied sweetly, "Sure!" Looking back at Flack, she mumbled, "Duty calls."

"Sure, it's cool."

When Savannah didn't move, she sighed and stated, "I'd like my hand back please."

It was only then that Don realised that they had been holding hands throughout their whole conversation. He let go, the tips of his ears reddening. Savannah just chuckled, heading back towards the till, with Don's blue eyes following her the whole way, inadvertently admiring her statuesque, curvy form.

* * *

Late that night, Flack joined Mac, Danny and Sid for the Rangers game in Sullivan's. After the usual greetings, Mac and Danny seemed to be vaguely disappointed with something. So he asked them what was up.

Mac just shrugged. "I'm just surprised you didn't bring Savannah along."

Don frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Last time you brought her," Danny pointed out. "And that was just you, me, and her."

"I was at the cafe when you called, of course I invited her," Don defended.

"And the time before that?"

Flack fought the urge to snap at Danny to mind his own business. He didn't want to share the reason why he had invited the brunette that first time she had met some cop buddies of his. "I thought she could use a night out. I don't think she has too many nights out is all."

"Well she is a wonderful girl," Sid said helpfully. "I heard you all talk about her in the morgue of course, but when you brought her along to the ball, Don, I couldn't believe how fantastic she was in person. Let me natter on about dead bodies like no one's business."

"She's like that," Mac said quietly, taking a sip of his beer.

Don couldn't help but be a little irritated. "I'm sorry, is this a gathering of the Savannah fan club or is this a group of guys here to watch a game?" he questioned testily.

"Both," the rest of the guys chorused.

Flack stared at them all incredulously before he chuckled. He realised that Anna had that effect on the whole CSI team and he remarked, "She has us all under her spell."

"Someone especially," Danny muttered from his side.

"What was that Messer?"

"Nothing!" the Italian replied innocently. He then mentioned to the barkeep and called out, "Another round Scotty! The game's just about to start!" As the next lot of beers came, the four men kept their comments based around the game as it began. However, Don felt his thoughts drift to a certain brunette cafe owner from time to time. Sometimes it was just the image of Savannah smiling at him. He kept thinking of how being around her seemed to fill him and calm him. He realised that she was becoming more and more important to him.

The tall man was roused from his thoughts of Anna in _that_ purple dress by a loud cheer coming up from the bar as the Rangers scored.

He cheered along, swept by the atmosphere in the bar.

* * *

Savannah went up to the first floor of the apartment building, knocking on the only door in the hallway. It opened and the weathered, lined face of her Aunt Emilie greeted her. Like Jacks, she was short and reed-thin, but the facial features told of a life filled with many joys. They were features that made Savannah feel a pang. As her mother's sister, Aunt Emilie had looked very similar.

"Good evenin' chere. What are you here for?" Emilie asked quietly in her slightly raspy voice, honed that way from many years of smoking.

"The key to the roof. I've got some basil to plant."

A knowing look passed over the tanned skin, and the older woman shuffled off, returning with a brass key. "Make sure you don't fall asleep like you did last time. I think you damn near gave Jackie a heart attack when you didn't open your apartment door."

Savannah grinned at the reminder. "I don't regret it. It was so beautiful."

Emilie's grey eyes smiled at her niece. She patted her arm and closed her door.

Key and basil in hand, the brunette woman made her way up the flights of stairs until she reached the heavy, locked door that led to the roof. Aunt Emilie was the only one who had the key and so if you had the fortune to get it before anyone else, the roof of the apartment building was a private and peaceful place. Balancing her gardening bag and basil plant, she opened the door and went through, locking it again behind her.

The roof was separated into three separate sections. The north edge was where the apartment owners had a communal garden with little plots of their own. It was protected from many of the elements by a wall of small bamboo on one side, and timber fencing on the other. On one side of the roof was a sandbox and toys for the two families that lived in the building and on the other side was a collection of different chairs for the once-monthly building get together. It built upon the sense of community that Aunt Emilie tried to instil in all of them.

It was the garden that Savannah was interested in.

Moving behind the six foot high bamboo, she moved to her own little plot, past the roses Emilie was growing and the bonsai Mr. Chen in 3A was working on. There was her pride and joy. Her aunt and cousin were avid gardeners and had gotten her interested in growing her own produce other than herbs. Two tomato plants stood proud with almost ripe fruit, next to some fennel. Alongside were various herbs – tarragon, mint, coriander, parsley and now, once she planted it, basil.

Kneeling on the soft, lush soil, Savannah went through the methodical steps of planting the basil, letting the familiar motions wash away the negativity of the day. When she was done, she dusted off her hands and sat on the patch of grass at the end of the garden, looking at the dark sky.

The only thing she had really missed about Hampton was seeing the stars late at night.

In New York, there was too much ambient light from the many buildings to see more than the few stars burning brightly.

Still, the spot was a little haven against the hustle and bustle of the big city. It was where she had come on the first night in New York to cry for all that she had lost. On the night Don had told her about Jessica, she had returned to pray – something she didn't advertise she did. And after the disastrous ball, she had changed into the oldest, rattiest clothes she had to stay out here the whole night, sleeping and trying not to fall in love with Don Flack.

It failed miserably.

Every moment Savannah spent with him was one more moment she wished that she would have the courage to do something about it. But she knew she would never do it. Not unless he made the first move. She would rather maintain the guise the friendship rather than lose his company. Don was funny, sarcastic, and all around a good guy. He was supportive, honest, and her attraction to him had only deepened over the past few months.

"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves," Savannah quoted to herself. She then smirked. "Then again, J.M Barrie said that 'Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow.' I guess that's true enough. Love is not just red – that only denotes lust," she murmured aloud. Lust was not the biggest factor in what she felt for Don. Although his voice made her tremble inside and those eyes pulled her in with magnetic force, his smile was her true reward. She wanted to make him smile more than anything else. Being with him was natural. If not exactly easy, it was never boring.

Laughing into the night, Savannah leaned against the timber fencing. "I always have to pick the hard ones."

Her two previous relationships had ended disastrously, both in different ways. Now she had to go for someone who she was pretty sure still hadn't let go of his past flame.

Well, Flack hadn't given her any indication otherwise anyway.

She wondered what he was doing. Watching the Rangers game or catching criminals?

"Wherever you are…sweet dreams, Don," Savannah whispered into the night, praying that he wouldn't have a horror film of memories plague him like they did almost a week ago.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah. I needed them two to have some 'screen' time away from each other before the next few chapters, which are big chapters. Like, more emotional exposing and all that. Be prepared! Review and tell me what you thought of this one. Personally, this was a good chapter to write. My favourite bit was writing Danny and the introduction of Aunt Emilie ;D**

**Also, you know how Anna mentioned AA when she was 22? Who can remember what happened around 22? (Clue, it was within the first eight chapters not including the prologue). **


	18. Day Off

**A/N: Just so you know, this is set in May, although I've kinda used that wonderful thing called creative licence again to put things that are technically way after season 6. Thank you so much to smuffly, Annabella Colt, no accounter, to new reviewer Fantasy6850, and Leslie Emm. You guys are so inspiring.**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 17 – Day Off**

* * *

_She's got a smile that heals me  
I don't know why it is  
But I have to laugh when she reveals me  
She's got a way of talkin'  
I don't know why it is  
But it lifts me up when we are walkin' anywhere_

**Billy Joel – She's Got a Way**

* * *

The fortnight that followed after Savannah's night-time ponderings was busy for both the cafe and the PD, so that she and Don only saw each other in passing whenever she had a second to sit with him on the chances he managed to steal to get to the cafe. They also got to texting or calling each other when they realised they were simply too busy.

So impressed by Flack's efforts over the two week period, Captain Haplan gave him a day off before some of the other detectives.

Flack woke up that next morning, realising had utterly nothing too pressing to do. His apartment was relatively tidy, any bills he had were sorted for the month already, his parents were still on a cruise so he didn't have an option to go see them, and everyone else he would usually hang out with was either at work or they had their own crap to get through. He guessed he could go down to see if his local YMCA needed a hand, but he had gone for a few hours a couple of days ago and they looked to be in no need of extra volunteers.

And he really didn't feel like going to the gym. He had enough exercise running around town for the past fortnight.

Flicking through the morning newspaper, his attention was caught by the entertainment section. Leaning back in his chair, Flack realised he hadn't gone to see a film that wasn't on his own TV set in a while.

Looks like he was about due. But who to take with him?

It took him a second of thinking before the answer came to him, and he grabbed his cell phone, calling the Comfort Cafe number. It rang twice before Jacks answered. "Hi, this is Comfort Cafe, how can we help?"

"Jacks? Hey, it's Flack."

"Ol' blue eyes huh?" Jacks chortled. "What's up?"

"Is Savannah there?" he asked eagerly.

Booming laughter came over the line. "You are both funny ones. The one day you want to see her is the day that child takes a day to herself."

Excitement rose within Don. "She's really taking a day off?" he clarified.

"Yup. I made her stay home, the poor thing was so run down. If you want to find her, that's where she'll be. You might want to bring her some coffee if you do, though," Jacks replied merrily.

"Will do. Have a nice day Jacks."

"You too."

Positive about how his day would go, Don finished his toast and grabbed his things, checking the locks before heading towards Spring and West Broadway. He stopped past his local coffee house to grab two lattes – buying a muffin to sweeten the deal just in case. He made it there and walked up to Savannah's door, rapping sharply on it. He waited for ten seconds before knocking again.

"I'm coming!" came a grumpy voice on the other side of the door.

Flack smiled. This was going to be entertaining.

The door swung open, and for a moment, they were both speechless.

Savannah because Don was actually at her door, carrying the nirvana she needed – coffee.

Don because…Savannah was dressed in nothing but a tank top and black sleep shorts with cartoonish pictures of sheep jumping over fences.

"Cute," he managed to comment, his stare fixed on the shorts. And more specifically, the long legs poking out from beneath.

The brunette looked down, seemingly noticing her state of dress and scowled. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly expecting anyone. I get in the _worst_ kind of moods if I get up, go back to sleep and then have to get up again." She then took one of the lattes and the muffin, asking, "For me, right?"

"What if they weren't?"

"Too bad," Savannah retorted, taking a sip of the needed brew and sighing happily. "I don't usually drink a lot of coffee, but on mornings like this I need it. Mmm…thanks. Who gave you the heads up?"

"Jacks."

"Ah…yeah, the last time this kind of thing happened and she woke me up, I was so deliriously tired I think I threw a shoe at her to get her to go away." Seeing Don's stricken look, Savannah smirked. "To be fair though, she was meaning to play a prank on me…she dropped the whoopee cushion on the way out. So, what brings you here today detective?"

Flack cleared his throat, heading for the couch as Savannah sat in the wicker armchair. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to the movies or something with me," he invited.

"Day off?" she inquired, tearing into the muffin Don had brought.

"Yep. Rumour has it you're taking one too."

"That's what my marching orders from Jacks were. I hadn't even thought of doing anything before you showed up."

"How about now?" he asked, canting his head to the side and holding her gaze.

Savannah tapped a finger against her upper lip. "Well…" she drew out playfully. Seeing Don raise his eyebrows incredulously, she shrugged, "I guess it would be nice. Popcorn, frozen coke, spending time with you. Sounds like a great day to me."

Encouraged by the enthusiasm in Savannah's tone, Flack added, "And later we could do something else too. A movie isn't going to take the whole day after all."

"If you think of something, I'll go along with it," agreed the brunette. Finishing off the muffin, she rose and headed for the door, grabbing her purse. "Let's go."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Don called laughingly.

Savannah looked back at him, confused, until she saw where his line of sight was. Back on those black sheep print shorts. She slapped a hand to her forehead, cursing her over-eagerness, and rushed off to her bedroom, calling behind her, "Give me a minute, I'll actually be presentable."Changing into black denim, a green shirt and sandals, she grabbed her bag, cell, her coffee, and Don's arm as she whirled out of her apartment.

They got to the movie complex where they argued about Don paying for both of them. Savannah insisted, but he pointed out that he had invited her, so he was entitled to pay. She compromised by buying two supersized popcorn/frozen coke combos. Both eschewed the latest and sappiest romantic comedy types, both opting for the action movie The Avengers. They came out of the theatre later, chatting animatedly about how good of a film it was and debating over their favourite characters.

"Ironman, hands down," said Flack.

"Black Widow."

"Of course you would pick her, she's a kick-ass woman!"

"She is," agreed Savannah, "but did you see the sparks flying between her and Hawkeye? I liked that relationship, whatever it was there."

Flack considered this. "I'm not seeing whatever you are, but okay. Oh, and that bit where the Hulk just bashed Loki around was freakin' unbelievable."

"You were the loudest one laughing in the whole cinema," the brunette needled playfully.

"Was not. You were right there with me."

They engaged in a staring contest before Savannah giggled, nodding. "Okay, okay, I was laughing just as loud as you. But it was just _so_ good. I would happily go see that again. And again. And probably again. I'm in awe of the complete epicness – thanks for bringing me out today Don."

Flack waved her off with a grin. "Don't mention it, I was happy to ask you along. It wouldn't have been half as fun if you weren't here."

Heading out of the complex, Don drove them down a few blocks and turned a corner, just in front of a grotty looking alley. Savannah looked down the shadowy corridor dubiously, but followed the tall man out of the car. "Are you taking me sight-seeing on crime scenes again?" she asked cautiously.

Flack smirked, choosing to stay silent. Savannah moved a little closer to him, wondering where the heck he was taking her. Their footsteps seemed to echo as loud as gunshots in the dank space, and while Savannah trusted Don implicitly, she knew that there were always nasty surprises that tended to crop up. He led her around a corner down another alley, even darker than the first one. Don's voice broke the eerie stillness. "Relax. Your breathing sped up. I know where we're going. Some of the best places have the weirdest paths to get there."

"That's comforting," Savannah said dryly as she saw a cat slink across their path.

Flack took her hand. "Feel better?"

Savannah was glad the dim light hid her blush. She did feel a little better.

Don stopped in front of a door, which looked almost sparkling clean in contrast to the rest of the alley. There was a small, simple sign above it proclaiming _'Mrs. Hing's Kitchen.' _"I hope you feel like Chinese food. We're here," he murmured, knocking on the door.

It swung open, golden light spilling out, as a little wizened old Asian woman stood in the doorway. Her accent was heavy, but she was understandable as she greeted them. "Ah, detective. I was wondering if you were ever going to visit my kitchen again soon!"

"Aw Mrs. Hing, your stuff is so good, how could I not come back?" Don questioned rhetorically in the most charming voice he could muster.

Mrs. Hing tutted and beckoned them in. "I see you have the sense to bring a friend this time. Good. It is easier to make more than to make a single serve," she mentioned, leading them to a cosy round table behind a silk screen partition. Savannah looked around curiously at the place. There were two punk teens snacking on dim sims near the counter and a family of Asians in the middle of the room with a massive bowl of shark fin soup in the middle of their table. The interior was in such contrast to the passage to make it there – the walls were mustard yellow and decorated with crimson tapestries of ancient Chinese artwork. Dragons were prominent. Their table seemed to be in its own little world behind the screen, one of two tables behind it. Once seated, Mrs. Hing bustled away to bring menus and water.

When she was gone, Don looked at Savannah. "Well?"

"I think you should ask me if it's worth it after the food," she replied mildly, although she was relieved to be secure and tucked away.

He chuckled, blue eyes gleaming knowingly. "Oh, you'll be saying it's worth it," he countered.

They perused the menu, Savannah choosing garlic prawns while Don went for kung-pow chicken, deciding to share some fried rice. Mrs. Hing smiled and promised that it would be the best Chinese food she had ever sent.

"You know, her work ethic reminds me of you," Flack observed casually.

"Yeah, a bit. We both care about our jobs and are passionate about food it looks like," Savannah said thoughtfully. "I'm actually really excited to see what she's made now you've hyped it up."

The pair then fell into comfortable chatter as they waited for their meals. They continued to discuss the Avengers, Flack sharing how he felt that the filmmakers had been quite faithful to the comics he would get as a kid. Savannah admitted she hadn't been a big comic reader, but she had enjoyed the movies that led up to the ultimate mishmash of heroes. When their food came, they fell silent as they quenched their hunger, the brunette woman taking her first bite and sighing in delight while Don looked smug.

Savannah caught it and rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'll give. This is so worth it," she confessed.

"I told you," he replied lowly.

The meal passed pleasantly and when they went up to pay, they lauded upon the elderly Mrs. Hing. She merely smiled a Mona Lisa smile and bowed them out of her hidden place. Retracing their steps through the maze of the alley, Flack asked, "You wanna come back to my place or something?"

"And do what?"

"I don't know, but I don't feel like being home alone doing nothing but watching re-runs of some soap opera or a game I've seen a zillion times. I may not be able to offer much, but we can always have that rematch of Monopoly we've talked about. Or I've got the Star Wars movies if you want to be bored out of your mind," he offered temptingly.

The glint of challenge was in the bright green-grey eyes as she replied, "Oh, I aim to beat you at Monopoly this time detective."

He smirked. "You have as much chance of beating me as Lucy does."

Savannah gasped in indignation and retorted, "You're asking for it buddy."

"Bring it."

They were almost to the car when Savannah turned to bite back with another remark, but missed the crack in the pavement. She yelped as she tripped, falling towards the ground. In a move born of instinct, Don reached out and grabbed her, preventing her from smacking into the pavement. Unfortunately, it meant he lost his own balance and he twisted, Savannah falling atop him as he took the fall meant for her. He grunted as he landed, all too aware of the face that had fallen into the crook of his shoulder and neck.

"Well hello there," he mumbled.

"You make the most comfortable ground to smash into," Savannah said into the awkward silence, levering off him to see his face. The tips of his ears were red and he was staring up into the sky. "You do that for any lady who trips near you Don?"

"Only the pretty ones," he muttered, making the brunette woman laugh.

"Smooth, Flack, smooth," she teased, getting up and offering him a hand. They were a little awkward around each other for a few moments as they brushed themselves off – seemingly hyper aware of the other person. Clearing his throat, Flack said, "Okay, why was that so weird? We've been tackling each other in the self-defence things."

"Maybe because I tripped on the most obvious crack in that whole alley," replied Savannah mildly.

"Just so you could get a word in," he pointed out cheekily.

"You were being insufferable."

Their debate continued in the car on the way back to Don's apartment. It was late afternoon by the time they got through the midtown traffic. As soon as they got in, Flack went for the Monopoly board, proclaiming, "You've been talking the talk, time to walk the walk cake girl."

"Cake girl? That's uninspired. I expected better from you…Donald," Savannah bantered.

Flack grimaced. "Okay then. How about I call you Grits?"

"Ew, no."

"Don't call me Donald, it makes me feel really old," he reminded as he returned, setting up the game on his coffee table while they kneeled on the carpet.

Savannah made a hum of amusement and nodded. Flack considered her warily, wondering the likelihood of her calling him that again. He hoped she wouldn't. Then he would actually have to prank her. He picked his piece – the car – while his opponent picked the boot. Curious, he asked, "Why the boot?"

"Because I'll be kickin' you to the curb in all my properties I'm gonna get," Savannah said confidently.

"Yeah, you keep thinking that way," snorted Don.

As it turned out, Savannah did kick Flack to the curb. She played recklessly, and it paid off as Don somehow managed to land on almost every property she had on the board. Eventually, she had enough to buy more properties and houses, making a pained Don pay up when he continued to land on her spaces. She smelled victory when her opponent had to mortgage all of his properties.

"I have you now my pretty," she cackled.

"And my little car too," finished Don solemnly, wondering how he was going to get out of this debt. He rolled the dice, hoping to land straight on 'go' instead of the dreaded dark blue properties.

No such luck.

He dropped his head in defeat as he moved his piece and declared bankruptcy.

Savannah saw this and let out a whoop of joy. "That's right Donnie-boy, I can walk the walk thank you very much!" she crowed jubilantly.

"Now who is being insufferable?"

Savannah flopped on the floor, a wide smile stretched on her face. "Oh that was _awesome_! I didn't think that almost bankrupting myself in the beginning to buy the properties would work, but it did!" She sighed and wiggled happily on the carpet. "I like winning."

"You don't say?" Don remarked petulantly, leaning against his couch.

"Now Don, who won last time?"

"Me."

"And who is the one I usually call first to try my food?"

"Me."

"And who is the guy who gets to cook me dinner as a punishment for losing?"

"Me…oh wait, you tricked me into that one!" Flack exclaimed, Savannah's laughter ringing in his ears as he figured out the ruse. He raised an eyebrow at her, which set her off into more giggles. "Remind me to stop challenging you. There's an equal chance of losing just as well as winning."

"Yep, make sure you don't go easy on me next time…or be as predictable in your strategy."

"Am I that predictable?"

"Yes, you are that predictable. Your tactics were exactly the same as last game," Savannah replied, not noticing that the blue eyes of the detective clouded over in thought. He remembered the last time similar sentences had been said. To Jess. From him just before she got shot. Shaking it off (he thought he had been doing quite well recently too), Don asked, "So, what sort of pasta do you like for dinner?"

Savannah sobered slightly. "Don, I was kidding."

"Well I'm not. I haven't cooked for someone apart for me and Sam in ages. It'll give me a chance to actually make something for once. And besides," he pointed out reasonably, "you cook for me all the time. Least I can do is return the favour – show you I'm not the worst cook in New York."

"I'm sure you're not," the brunette complimented warmly, getting up and following the taller man to his kitchen. "Need help?"

Smirking, Flack replied, "What part of 'I'll cook' doesn't register? You go and make yourself at home while I see what I can whip up. Go put on a movie, grab yourself a beer or go raid my wine collection. It's about relaxing, not worrying about the food. Leave that to me…for once." Seeing a dubious look pass over Savannah's pretty features, he said more firmly, "Anna, you aren't going to help by looking over my shoulder. You'll be like the hawk from hell."

Huffing amusedly, she muttered, "You're bossy when you've lost a game."

"Too right. Now shoo and if I see you back in here, I'm going to give you therapy to spend more time outside of a kitchen," he threatened, but his wink ruined the effect.

Savannah decided to just do what he wanted (she was after all a guest) and went to the refrigerated wine rack she had spotted earlier when getting some water during the game. Hoping that she was picking right for whatever Don was preparing, she picked a bottle of white wine and opened it, pouring two glasses, dropping off his one. She glimpsed Don slicing mushrooms before turning back out again to snoop through Flack's DVD collection.

Passing the Die Hard movies, the grey-green eyed woman let her fingertips trail along the plastic covers as she searched the titles. She almost paused at 'Ironman' before she spotted what she really wanted.

The Bourne Identity.

Cheering in her head, Savannah took it out and popped it in the DVD player, making sure not to play it just yet – instead content to look through the special features. She was glad for the featurettes, for soon Flack was calling her to come to the table. She paused the footage and made her way there. As she sat, he came out of the kitchen, a dishcloth slung over his shoulder and two plates in his hands. With a horribly fake French accent, Flack made a little bow and placed the dish before her. "For Le Madame, a beautiful rendition of fettuccine alla Flack with mushrooms, chicken, and a touch of saffron cream. Would Madame care for some cheese?"

Savannah found herself caught up in the bubble of her own laughter. "Oh Don, that's so bad!"

He shrugged. "Oh well, I tried," he said nonchalantly, sitting opposite her and winking. "Nice choice on the wine. Was that on purpose?"

"No."

"There's that instinct again, doing crazy things," Don said, passing his companion a fork.

"Coincidence," she argued stubbornly.

"If you insist. Anyway, hope you like. I was so glad I had the ingredients for it, I haven't done my shopping because of all the hectic work schedules, you know?"

"Don, you could have made me a cheese toasted sandwich and I would still be happy with it. I'm grateful that you went to the effort," Savannah assured, twirling the pasta around her fork expertly. She ate it, seeing that Flack was anticipating her feedback before eating his own meal. The subtle flavours exploded onto her tongue, the richness of the cream perfect. "You have nothing to worry about. This is yum."

"Good, now I can relax," Don replied.

After eating, they washed the dishes together (much to Flack's chagrin, Savannah wouldn't back down from helping him clear up) and retreated to the couch to watch the Bourne movie. As they sat side by side, sipping second glasses of wine, the brunette asked inquisitively, "Where'd you get the inspiration for that dish by the way?"

Don felt the reply slip surprisingly easy from his lips. "Jess." He paused, not feeling, well, anything other than past fondness in mentioning of his late girlfriend. "It was the first thing she ever made me. I liked it so much that I practically begged her for the recipe, although I put my own twist on it by taking out the capsicum she put in and just adding cream and cracked pepper," he explained.

"Oh," Savannah murmured softly.

"Does it bother you?"

"No way!" she exclaimed fervidly. "In fact, I think it's a bit of a milestone for you, that you feel comfortable sharing all this with me. It means that most of the dark days are over."

Don has to agree with that. "Yeah, I think so too," he said thoughtfully, his voice grave as he remembered his weaker moments.

Savannah reached for the remote and stopped the movie. They had switched to a topic that required more attention than this. Shifting so that she sat sideways facing the blue eyed man, she asked directly, "Okay, what part of memory lane are you visiting now?"

"You aren't mincing words tonight."

"Why should I? It doesn't pay to play word games."

"It's not exactly moments I'm proud of," Don said discontentedly. They were straying into bleaker territory now.

Blowing out a breath to keep her patience and her compassion higher than the slight irritation she felt, Savannah reminded quietly, "I have moments I'm ashamed of. Like when I chucked a cake pan at my second chef's head the other day because he wasn't working fast enough, or when I was drinking myself to an early grave at 22, or when I fell for that idiot Jake, or like when I flew off the handle at Gort. We all have moments like that."

"You're right," Flack replied simply, not wanting to go in depth and stir up old pain and regret.

Not when he had someone so full of life next to him.

Seemingly satisfied, Savannah pressed play on the remote, and they settled in for the rest of the movie. About halfway through, Don noticed a light pressure on his shoulder. He quickly looked down to see a brunette head resting there, grey-green eyes half-lidded in sleepiness. Seeing that her wine glass was beginning to slip from her grasp, he expertly plucked it gently from the feminine hands and placed it on the coffee table, silently wondering how long it would take her to fall asleep on him.

Only to tease her about it later of course.

Not because he was enjoying the sensations stemming from his chest as Savannah was shifting, her legs coming up to curl under her. Not because it made him happy that she was at ease enough around him to get comfortable. He forced himself to glue his eyes to the TV screen. He didn't want to startle her after all, and lose all the blackmail material.

Turns out, five minutes before the climax of the movie, Savannah sighed and her breathing indicated that she had succumbed to her weariness, her head lolling on Don's shoulder.

He barely kept is laughter in, murmuring to himself, "Cormier, it's not even 10pm. You are a lightweight."

He was content to let her rest there until the last of Jason Bourne's butt-kicking awesomeness was finished. Flack wrapped an arm around her to make sure she didn't jerk and fall off the couch in her sleep and leaned back. Afterwards, he turned off the TV unit and glanced down at the dark curls spilling over his shoulder. He really didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful, and every now and then she would make a soft humming sound. "Savannah?" he whispered.

No response except for her to snuggle into him.

Don tried pulling away, but found she had latched onto his shirt accidentally…somehow. Smirking at the usually alight cafe owner deep in sleep, he made the decision to give his guest room a workout. He would really hate to wake her up after her bad morning. He got up and easily picked up the lax woman in his arms – the motion causing her to wake up slightly, but he shushed her. He went to the door and pushed it open and laid the curvy brunette on the simply made single bed, glad he had cleaned it recently.

The guestroom doubled as a kids room for the rare times Lucy or his nephew Stephen wanted to come over to be babysat. It was also where most of his junk ended up. Taking advantage of Savannah's half-awake state, he dug one of his old, but clean, sweatshirts from a box and nudged her. "Hey sleeping beauty, you gotta get changed. You'll have the worst night's sleep otherwise," Don murmured.

Savannah grumbled slightly, still not fully awake and taking the shirt. Flack went out into the main body of the apartment as she blearily struggled into the improvised sleepwear, turning off all the lights and checking the locks. When he came back, Savannah's eyes were open but he could tell she was seconds away from sleep again. "Y'sure?" she managed to ask softly.

"Yes, I'm sure. I promise bogeymen won't pop out overnight," he replied teasingly, admiring the way the sweatshirt fell to halfway down full thighs before turning his attention back to the tired woman. Gently, he stroked a line down the side of Anna's face. "Sleep or else."

Savannah just nodded, already dropping back off.

The feeling of protection swelling up in him, Don pulled up the covers, securing them and taking the moment to just look at Savannah.

As the warm feelings in him grew he straightened as he realised all that denial was suppressing.

He was deeply attracted to the brunette in more ways than one.

There was definitely something between them. As for what? He didn't want to label it for worry that it could be just a stupid assumption. He just knew that he hadn't felt like this in some time. This feeling of wholeness.

It…it felt like home.

Considering, the tall detective left the room, but not before admiring Savannah's simple beauty one more time.

* * *

**A/N: It is SO hard to get the balance right between sweet and realistic. I don't want it to be sappy, but I want Flack to realise, 'hey, there's something here…and I might be able to act on it.' But overall, I needed to write some fluff to break up the dooming and glooming and drama. Next one…is heavy. **

**As always, I appreciate all your reviews. You guys are wonderful.**


	19. Is There Any Sunlight?

**A/N: Heavy chapter ahead. Thank you to Annabella Colt, smuffly, no acco'd, and Kayla. THANKS GUYS WE GOT TO 80 reviews. You are all so freaking wonderful. Thanks also to the new watchers and favouriters. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing.

**Warnings: **Mild swearing and descriptions of violence, blood, and gore.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 18 – Is there any Sunlight?**

* * *

_Will you stay?  
Stay 'till the darkness leaves  
Stay here with me  
I know you're busy, I know I'm just one  
But you might be the only one who sees me  
The only one to save me _

**Irvine – Kelly Clarkson**

* * *

The next morning, Savannah had woken to see a smirking Don Flack in the doorway, a cup of coffee in each of his hands.

She was confused for a few moments before realising what had happened. She looked around his spare room, murmuring, "I can't believe I fell asleep on you like that." She then focussed on the coffee mugs in Flack's hands. "Is there one of those for me?"

"Depends. Will I leave the apartment unscathed if I don't?"

"No."

"Well good thing that, based on detective skills I used yesterday, I had a feeling you would like coffee this morning," Don replied with that cheeky look on his face, coming in and sitting on the bed, handing a mug to her. "I was going to wake you soon anyway. I have work in about an hour and a half."

Taking the cup with a brief word of thanks and taking a sip, Savannah asked, "What time is it?"

"8.30."

Savannah's eyes widened and she jerked up. "Shit," she swore, "I have to be at the cafe!"

Flack chuckled and gently held down her shoulders. "Chill, Jacks called this morning when she couldn't get an answer from your apartment. I told her you were fine, and that you were just having a bit of a lie in and breakfast. She's cool with it, so you have no excuse to be rushing off."

"Oh thank God," she said, relieved, shifting so she was upright anyway. After draining the mug of coffee, Savannah noticed that Don was just content to look at her, that little smirk playing about his lips. She was suddenly a little conscious of herself and wished she had a mirror to see what she looked like. Hopefully her hair didn't look scary this morning. "You mentioned something about breakfast?"

"Yeah, only if you want. Or, we could go to your cafe instead. Probably has more variety than cheese on toast," Don shrugged nonchalantly.

Savannah saw right through this ploy. "If you wanted to have one of my special breakfasts, you could have said so," she said knowingly.

"Caught red-handed," Flack countered sheepishly, and rose. "Get ready, we can go soon."

Savannah flopped down into the covers once the blue eyed man left, feeling her heart racing. He had been so close to her. When he had handed her the cup of coffee and their fingers had brushed, she swore electricity had jumped between them. Just waking up, she had been unprepared for the raw dose of Don Flack she had gotten. He had smelled clean and the hair at the nape of his neck had looked damp. His smile had disarmed her completely. And the care and sweetness he had displayed made her insides feel like goo.

"You are getting in this love deep," Savannah whispered to herself, getting up and peeling the large sweatshirt off her and changing back into her own clothes. She kept the shirt in her hands, marvelling at the softness of the material – probably from the amount of washes Don had put it through. She brought it up to her nose, wondering if the scent of him had given her such a deep sleep last night.

"Anna!" Don called from the apartment doorway.

"Coming!" she replied, hastily making the bed and folding the shirt, politely leaving it on the pillow.

Back to everyday life.

* * *

A week passed since then.

Flack had teased Savannah mercilessly about her sleeping over and she took it with good humour, and everything went back to what constituted as normal for them. He would try to visit her at least once a day, while she thought of what new and quick dishes she could prepare. It pleased her when not only Flack came, but the rest of the CSI team – even Sid and Adam came in a few times.

It was when she woke up and turned on her TV that week later that Savannah found herself drawn to the news.

"…_detectives have been unable to comment so far, but all we know is that two children between the ages of 8-12 have been cut into parts and scattered all over this alley behind me."_ The footage showed a place that was from the West Side, and she watched in morbid fascination as the cameraman diverted the lens from the newswoman to focus on the crime scene tape blocking off an alleyway between two buildings. A few moments later, Savannah saw Mac on screen, followed by Flack. They were careful not to show their faces to the camera as they talked, but Savannah could tell by their stances and by the tight expressions they had briefly shown that things were grave.

The news reporter began to blather on again, so Savannah turned it off.

She hoped that they would visit. She hadn't liked the look on either man's face.

Savannah didn't know how she had gotten through the day. Her worry about the CSI team had peaked, affecting her usual cheeriness. Sure, she was still pleasant, but many of her regulars noticed that the bounce in her step, the sparkle in her eye, and the joy in her smile was gone that day. Her workers felt her mood and were slightly more subdued in result. It didn't help that she didn't see any one of them during the day – and she knew for a fact that Hawkes was meant to have a day off and had promised to drop by.

As she locked up and went home, alone on the subway, Savannah knew that the report she had seen this morning had everything to do with Flack and everyone else being absent.

Walking back to the apartment, she stopped by the bodega on the corner and did a double take as she saw the date on a newspaper.

How had she forgotten? How could she forget this day? Subconsciously, she knew she hadn't. She hadn't been happy really at all today.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away, rushing back to her apartment. She opened the door and went immediately for her gardening tools. She needed something to take her mind off of the date.

* * *

Flack stormed out of the interviewing room, Mac following close behind. He felt his usual cool and collected demeanour fraying, and knew his friend was exactly the same. Resisting the urge to pound a fist against the wall, Flack turned to Mac and asked, "You reckon she's playing us? Or she really doesn't have a clue how her son ended up hacked to bits in that alley?"

"Marion looks good for it – she has no alibi and we found marijuana at her apartment, but something in my gut tells me she really has nothing to do with his death. That being said, good thing we didn't shock her with the pictures…she would have fainted, I think," Mac replied sagely.

It had been a long day for all the team and it was still afternoon.

Two bodies of young boys had been found in a west side alley. Timmy Cottle, 11, and Paul Marts, 12, had their gruesomely hacked up bodies strewn anywhere in no particular order. Their heads had been placed side by side, though, the looks of pure terror captured when they died frozen on their little faces forever. Lindsay hadn't even been able to process the scene, gasping and escaping to the car, sobbing. Danny had been similarly affected, but his determination to catch the bastard won over his shock at seeing such a thing – and he had seen a lot of grisly acts of murder. The mood at the PD and the Crime Lab had been grim ever since the story had broken out over the news.

They had only identified the boys because the mother of Timmy, Marion Cottle, had been arrested 15 years ago for drug possession and her DNA had been in the system. Through her, they had figured out that the other boy was Paul, one of Timmy's friends.

The CSI's initially suspected her because of her weed use and the fact that there were traces of the drug on Timmy's shirt.

Flack crossed his arms, staring at the door of the interrogation room. "I was thinking that too…but I wish we had more to go on. The DA has been calling me and my captain non-stop since the press got wind of this – they want someone to go down for it fast and hard because apparently hysterical moms have been calling the mayor's office."

"But this isn't a serial. This is the work of a sicko, a solo act of rage," Mac pointed out, taking out the folder under his arm and perusing the photos once again. His eyes flicked between the taller detective and the bloody pictures and asked, "Did you go to the autopsy with Hawkes?"

"Yeah…it was only marginally better than seeing the body parts exploded on the ground," Don deadpanned.

"Sid said that by piecing together the body parts he was able to determine that the COD was multiple blunt force trauma to the head for both boys. They were beaten first. He also mentioned that they were sawed up post-mortem and that the cuts were made with something jagged – Stella is taking care of finding out what that is, and the rest of the team are sorting through the clothes and the rest of the evidence," Mac described. He saw the other detective look off into the distance, wondering. "What are you thinking?"

"If Marion isn't a viable suspect, then I'm thinking to contact the school, see who was closest to the boys. Maybe they were at a friend's place, which would explain why she didn't know where Timmy was. I'll chase down the records," Flack offered helpfully.

"Good idea. Page me if something pops up on your radar."

"Will do."

Four hours later Flack felt like he had a few leads and he headed up to the 35th floor with the files in his hands. He saw Mac and Adam talking animatedly with Stella near the break-room and he entered there. "Got anything?" he asked hopefully. They all needed some good news with this case.

Adam was the one who answered. "I pulled some foreign DNA off a tiny piece of metal that Sid found in Paul Marts's decapitation wound. I'm running it through CODIS now. That coupled with what Stella found, means we're getting somewhere."

"After doing reconstruction I found out that the kind of tool that did the decapitation is a hand held reciprocating saw. Might explain the metal on the body – it broke off," Stella added.

"I found that the bruises on the boys bodies indicate that they were beaten with bare fists. The imprint is too big to be female, and there was an odd indentation, indicating the murderer wears some kind of ring. What have you got Flack?" Mac asked.

Holding up the files, Flack replied, "Two friends got me interested. Bobby Caldwell is in Timmy's class and apparently hangs around him and Paul, and it appears that he's got a big brother who is associated with the Pelham Bay boys. And the other is Callum Swicky who is in both boys grade. In the file it shows that he's wandered into the local hospital with bruises four times in the past year. Whenever the nurses have asked him, his reply is always the same. That he fell."

He then showed them the photos of a red haired little boy, his big brown eyes seemingly too old for his tender age of 11, bruises on his cheeks, shoulders, and stomach. All soft areas on a child.

"That does not look like he fell," Adam said in a low tone, unable to stomach the pictures and turning away.

The rest of the group wisely decided to not react to that comment. They agreed.

"Is this enough to get a warrant to go to Callum's house?" Mac asked curiously.

"The DA agreed, but says if we find anything, we need to construct some kind of motive," Flack answered honestly. "We can only ask Callum some questions, bring his father in for interviewing, and look for the murder weapon."

"Okay. We can't do anything about this right now – DNA still needs to come back and I think we all need some rest before going at this full steam tomorrow," the lead CSI reasoned. Stella and Adam nodded, heading off to finish what they were working on. Mac then asked Flack, "You still on shift?"

"Nah, Haplan told me to run this and, I quote, 'get the hell out of here so you have a clear head tomorrow.'"

"Sound advice," Mac said pleasantly with a knowing glint in his eye.

"I plan on taking it. You should too," Don countered, knowing that Mac would probably work himself to the bone before flopping on the office couch. Mac just rose an eyebrow in reply before promising he would try and get home later.

Flack left, clocking off at the precinct and heading back to his apartment. Once he was there, he couldn't get comfortable. He had showered the tension away and changed into something casual but he still felt wired. He tried watching a baseball game, but the Yankees were going down hard to Baltimore and he didn't really want to see his favourite team being beaten. He stood and went to his balcony, hoping the view would settle him, but for some reason it brought him little solace.

He smirked as he realised what he really wanted and what his intuition had probably been trying to tell him.

He picked up his stuff and locked up once more, driving the memorised route to Savannah's apartment. Once he was there, he knocked on the door, surprised that he didn't get an answer. It was only 9pm…she couldn't be asleep yet, could she? He knocked again, harder this time, calling her name. Again, no answer. Don then tried calling her cell, frowning when it went to voicemail. He tried once again, knocking sharply on the door.

A door opened, but it was the one behind him.

Jacks stood in the doorway, looking a little irritated. "You wanna wake up the dead with those knocks Flack?"

Don muttered an apology but asked, "Where's Anna? Has she gone out or something?"

Jacks shook her head. "Nah, she's here. She's on the roof. She goes there when she's had a tough day or when she really needs to be alone. She's probably gone to tend the garden."

"Great, I'll just go up then," Flack said, but her cleared throat stopped him.

"You're gonna need this," Jacks explained, holding up a gleaming key. "Everyone thinks that my mama is the only one with the key, but I have a spare just in case – I just don't give it out to just _anyone_." As Don took the key, her knowing eyes looked over him. "Be careful when you get up there…Anna may not be her usual self," she murmured.

Flack looked confused and wanted to ask Jacks more, but the short woman had already closed her door.

Glancing down at the key in his hands, he muttered, "Well, here goes."

When he finally reached the heavy door, Flack unlocked it with a certain amount of trepidation. Last time Jacks had mentioned that Savannah hadn't been her usual self had been the night she had opened up to him about her ex's abuse. Could this be the same pain or could this be something else? Whatever it was, Don wanted for Savannah to be able to lean on him an tell him about it. Pushing the door open, he carefully edged out onto the roof. It was nicely set up with a real community vibe about it. He couldn't see Savannah in the open area and so he headed for the bamboo on the far side. As he approached, he heard a clear, strong song being sung.

"_In the arms of the angel,  
Fly away from here,  
From this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel,  
May you find some comfort here,  
You're in the arms of the angel,  
May you find some comfort here."_

That was definitely Savannah, singing sweetly and sorrowfully into the night. He felt his heart clench and he stepped forward, almost to the wall. He heard soft humming with sobs. Seeing the gap in bamboo and timber, Don stepped into the walkway and saw Savannah, laying on her side on the lone patch of grass in the garden, tears trailing down her face, eyes closed as she sang simple notes without words.

It was the most exposed he had ever seen her, even more so than when he had tucked her away in his guestroom, or after the ball, or when she told him about Wallace, and sympathy washed over him. He knew that pain – the mourning of the dead.

"Savannah?" he murmured quietly, hoping she would react well to his presence.

Usually vibrant eyes opened, showing sorrow and more grey than usual. She sobbed and choked out, "Don? How come you're here?"

He walked through the little hideaway of vegetation and knelt before her, saying, "I was restless. I felt like I needed to see you."

Savannah hastily wiped away her tears, sitting upright. "Bad day huh? I heard about the little boys," she said, trying to play off the tears. She knew that Don didn't buy it for a second – his eyes were warm and understanding, although his face was drawn in the tight lines of tiredness and anxiety.

"Yeah. It's been a real mood-stealer at the PD and lab. It was bloody. But we have leads, so we're positive we're going to find the killer," he replied quietly. He had been ready to share about the headaches that had cropped up in the investigation, but it all paled in comparison now to the pain the brunette was obviously feeling. He reached forward and cupped her cheek, wiping the pad of a thumb over an errant tear. He was amazed that for all that she was obviously hurting, Savannah had put his needs first and attended to his emotional state. "Why are you crying?" he asked gently.

"It's nothing."

"No it's not," Don replied fiercely, cupping her face in both hands now and searching her eyes, trying to impress on her how sincere he was. "It's not. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Please. We can take it nice and slow. You know I'll understand…I've been there Savannah."

"I know," she said thickly, eyes re-filling with tears. "I know you have. But I feel like my entire life has been one big sob story and I don't like sharing because it feels so unlikely that things like this happen to me…or people around me."

As the tears fell, Flack wiped them away, unable to look away from her eyes. He felt like he was being sucked into them. He wanted to ease her pain. "Talk to me. I don't think of it that way," he murmured, "you don't have to always be strong. At least around me."

Without asking permission, he lifted Savannah into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly, stubbornly ignoring her attempt to wriggle free. "Let it out. You will feel better, I promise," he whispered soothingly.

She was still, struggling not to let her emotions fly. Don then whispered in her ear, "Anna, how could I judge you for being human? Like you told me the night with the nightmares. C'mon. Let it out."

With a shudder, Savannah finally broke, crying softly, curling into the tall, lean frame holding her close. Hands clutched desperately at his shirt as if to anchor herself as hot tears of anguish sprung afresh, trailing down pale cheeks and soaking Flack's shoulder. Don gently stroked along her back, feeling her shudder and shake against him. He knew this feeling. Of thinking that you were so alone you had to hold it all in, pretend to the world that you didn't feel pain as much as you did, not knowing there were people there for you. Yes, Don knew it well. He drew Savannah tighter to him, slowly rocking back in forth like he had seen other people do. It seemed to work as the cries subdued slightly, enough for Savannah to murmur, "It's been one year since their murder."

Something cold went through Flack at that. "Whose?"

"Amanda and James," she choked out.

Savannah's friends. Those people whose plaques were right next to Jess's. Loosening his embrace, he allowed the distraught woman to compose herself as she slid off his lap and wiped away the remaining wetness on her cheeks.

"Can you tell me about them?" Don asked softly.

Nodding tearfully, Savannah replied, "If you like. But not here. I like my garden and all, but…not the best place for a deep and meaningful."

Flack helped her up, his forehead creasing in concern as he saw her so burdened by the weight of the knowledge that something terrible had happened. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders as they headed back down to the ground floor. Once they were in her apartment, Savannah asked her trademark question. "Do feel like eating? I haven't had dinner, so…"

"Sure, but let me help you. We don't even have to make something complicated…what's your favourite comfort food?"

Savannah smiled weakly, seeing how sweet Flack was being as he poked around her cupboards. "I have some serves of Mac n Cheese in the fridge from the other day. That's my favourite comfort food…along with Big Macs, but I don't feel like one of those at the moment," she answered.

Don nodded and immediately rummaged around in the fridge until he found the serves and put them in the microwave. Savannah tried to do it, but he waved her towards the couch. "You have had an emotional past few hours. Sit down and let people do things for you for once," he protested firmly. It was a mark of how unlike herself the brunette was, for she nodded meekly and dropped down on the comforting surface, simply watching him.

Another thing that worried Flack was that, when the food was ready, Savannah didn't go at it with her usual gusto, chewing slowly and looking like the food was stuck in her mouth. He didn't mention it for fear of getting her defences up – the opposite of what he was trying to achieve.

Placing her bowl on the table, Savannah turned to him, eyes holding all the gravity in the world within them. "When you go to a murder scene…does it ever get easier to see it? The cold, dead bodies, the blood?" she inquired in a haunted voice.

Copying her motions to face her, Flack replied, "It gets a little easier from when you're a rookie…but not really. It still makes you wonder about the state of humanity and how many years of seeing the same things over again before I go mad. In the end, they all seem to blur."

The curly haired head nodded slowly, processing the statement. "Every time I have a nightmare, their deaths is what I dream. It slowly gets easier, but it just scrapes that wound raw each time," she admitted, unable to stop the teary eyes again.

"What were they like?" asked Don, hoping that if he led her on a different topic that it would be easier for Savannah to get through.

"Amanda was my best friend, all the way since I moved from New Orleans. We met in junior school and stayed friends for the rest of our lives. She had blonde hair and brown eyes, and she loved being super girly. We shared a lot. I was there when her parents divorced just before we finished high school, and she was there for me when my mama died and when Wallace attacked me. She was the one to pull me out of bars and send me to AA when I was 22, and when Jake came along and beat me, she was there for me while they searched for him and I couldn't be home alone," Savannah explained, letting the truth finally flow. She managed to chuckle. "She always said goodbye to me like this: 'Bye chickie!' Always. And I would always reply, 'Bye-bye Silver Spoon!'"

"Sounds like you guys had a strong friendship."

"We did. I had other friendships of course – not many, but nothing compared to how close Amanda and I were," Savannah said.

Flack nodded, asking, "So how does James come into the picture?"

Savannah smiled in remembrance. "He was one of my friends in my business class. Amanda was doing visual arts, so she never met him…until I introduced them at a party one night. I think it was love at first sight for the both of them, because they got on like a house on fire. The next day, they were dating, and the rest is history. But I never felt like a third wheel whenever James was around. I was good friends with him in my own right, and so it was really easy to be around them as a couple." Her smile then abruptly faded. "He proposed two years ago, and they were excited. Amanda's parents weren't too happy – they were both rich and wanted her to be with a lawyer or accountant, not a surfboard designer. But they were going ahead with it anyway. I remember Amanda calling me, asking me if I wanted to help them with the wedding invitations. I said yes, and I left my little house so full of joy for them and optimism for the future."

Sensing they were coming to the worst part of the tale, Don wrapped an arm around Savannah's shoulder, pulling her close. "What happened?" he questioned gently. He fought the urge to wipe away the tear that suddenly trickled down her face.

Shaking her head slightly, the images of what she found flashed in front of Savannah's eyes in memory. "God, it was so horrible," she whimpered. "I had seen my mama dead, but that was peaceful…dignified. In the twenty minutes it took me to get to Amanda and James's place, they had been shot twice each. I opened the door, not noticing the fact it had been kicked in, and I vomited right then and there."

She gasped and sobbed, "Don, there was so much blood! It was on the walls, on the floor…the bastard had cut into the entrance wounds and taken the bullets, then smeared their blood all over everything – the wedding invitations, the furniture, the walls. I just started screaming, trying to wake both of them up but they were gone."

Savannah curled into welcoming arms and continued bravely, "I remember calling 911, but I was hysterical. I remember the paramedics had to sedate me to get me out of there."

Don didn't know what to say. The words 'I'm sorry for your loss' seemed so hollow and not genuine enough. Knowing that it worked to calm her last time, he brought Anna into his lap again, setting her sideways so that she was more comfortable. She cried wracking sobs as the remembered horror hit her all over again like it did a year before. "Easy Anna…" he murmured.

Sighing, she whined, "I hate this…I hate losing my control, I hate breaking down…why did they have to die?"

"Because some bastard was fucked in the head," Flack replied honestly.

The bluntness made Savannah quieten and she looked up at him. "Why is it that you know exactly the right things to say?" she wondered, her voice still thick with emotion but clearer than before.

"I've been there," he answered simply.

She searched his blue eyes and then nodded against his neck. "I know you have. I just wish I could have said something to the both of them before they died."

"I'm sure they knew how much you cared about them," Don said carefully. He hoped that pointing this out wouldn't upset her further. "Amanda just got off the phone with you. Her last moment with you was a positive one at least."

"That's true…and knowing that was a comfort to me. Later, after I had been cleared of suspicion and I got let out of hospital, the detectives investigating let me know that their deaths were quick once the shots had been fired."

Something in her statement stuck out to the detective. "You were a suspect?"

"Initially I was," replied Savannah, "because I was the first person there…and I was covered in their blood from when I was shaking them. Not to mention, and this I didn't know until later, but Amanda and James had made a combined will giving me half of their possessions in the event they died. The rest went back to their families. Eventually, they found my alibi rock solid, and I didn't own or possess the weapon. But there was nothing else they could go on, the murderer has never been found."

Flack shook his head. No one should go through that. "What happened next?"

"I mourned for two months," she answered truthfully, grabbing her purple throw and fiddling with the hem to make it easier to tell. "I closed down my cafe, Eva's, and I just moped around the house all day. My friends didn't come see me. They were too busy with their own lives and half of them thought I had done it, and the other half thought that I needed a mental institution. I was all alone…I didn't cook, I didn't clean, and the only thing that interested me was reading."

Savannah let a short silence lapse. Sighing, she said, "And then one day, there's a knock on my door. It's Jacks. She said that she heard what happened, and she made me an offer to come to New York and have a fresh start. She reminded me that I did have a family. So, I took the chance. I moved here and put it all behind me…or so I thought."

Don blew out a sigh. That was some tough shit Anna had gone through. "Yeah, we think it goes away-"

"-but it doesn't," she finished for him. "So I worked at being happy every day, until the day came that I wasn't faking it anymore. I still miss them deeply, but I had to move on."

Don marvelled at her inner strength. If there were more people like her, the world would be a better place. It felt so good that Savannah trusted him enough to let him hold her, and that she practically buried into his chest searching for comfort. Her breathing was calmer and the tears had dried, which assured him that she would be back to her normal self given the time to heal. "I can't believe how much you had to overcome," he murmured thoughtfully.

"I told you before Don…I am one of those people who refuses to break," Savannah countered softly. "You had your own demons too."

"I did…I still do sometimes. But I lose faith in humanity sometimes. How do you do it? How do you soldier on and act so nicely towards so many people you encounter?" Flack mused, looking down into her grey-green eyes.

Savannah paused, thinking of how to word her answer. She then sat straighter and met his gaze. "I believe that there is good and bad in everyone. They just choose which one to show to the world. I let my own goodness shine in the hopes that it will encourage others to do the same. I think that kindness begets kindness."

As Flack mulled that over, he asked, "Do you feel a bit better now?"

"A bit. Thanks for taking the time to listen to me, it helped so much. You're wonderful, you know that?"

Don felt the tips of his ears redden and a warm feeling emanated from his chest. "I do now," he smiled at her, glad to get a weak smile back. "You know how you were talking about encouraging other people to be better? Well, you've certainly encouraged me. In the months that I've known you, you have proved my first impression of you totally wrong," murmured Don, cupping the side of her face with a hand. He felt the sudden insane urge to kiss her.

"You as well."

"And you helped me in grieving, and now I know why. You went through the same processes I did."

"Even so, don't discount how strong _you _are as a person. A lot of it was you."

"With _you_." And before he could question his own actions, Don bent down and lightly brushed his lips over hers.

* * *

**A/N: ….yes, I went there. I stopped it right at that point. **

**So…what did you think of Savannah's tale? I appreciate your reviews for this chapter, because this is Anna at her most vulnerable. It was also a real challenge to write because I was stuck on getting the emotions right from the both of them, so if you thought it was right let me know. **

**I had to admit, my favourite part of writing the chapter was Flack entering to the garden. I thought that was particularly poignant. **


	20. Sweet and Sour

**A/N: Hahaha, that last chapter certainly got a reaction out of you all. Thank you to Annabella Colt, Fallen Angel 0601, Smuffly, Fantasy6850, no accounter, and Leslie Emm, you guys are such fantastic support. Thank you also those who continue to read this story. I hope you find this to your satisfaction. A bit of a sensitive topic though, you are warned. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' It's intended to be set three months after that episode. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M for swearing.

**Warnings: Mild swearing and descriptions of violence, blood, and mentions of child abuse**.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 19 – Sweet and Sour**

* * *

_I believe that love should be a reason  
To give and get back in return (to give and get back in return)  
I wanna breathe in a new beginning  
With someone who will wrap her arms around what's left of me_

**Lifehouse – Had Enough **

* * *

Savannah couldn't believe it.

If it wasn't for the reality of warm lips on hers and the scent of Don Flack permeating her brain, she would have thought this was one of her sweeter dreams. He increased the pressure, and she found herself kissing him back. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as his had been wrapped around her waist. She felt any negative feelings fade away in the wake of the spark-like sensations tingling through her body at the touch of his lips to hers.

And then, she came back to herself.

Making a sharp sound of protest, she pushed herself away, scrabbling back so she was on the far side of the couch.

Flack looked a bit guilty, but also disappointed. "Was I that bad?" he asked with a half-hearted smirk.

Raising trembling fingers to her mouth, Savannah shook her head, slightly speechless that he had kissed her. He had made the first move. But doubt crawled in on the momentary euphoria. "No, you're not, it's just…that wasn't out of pity, was it? It wasn't just to comfort me to make me feel good or just some weird thank you-"

"No! No way," Don exclaimed, wanting to smack himself in the head. Of _course_ Savannah might have seen it that way. "I just…I wanted to."

Savannah blushed then, and it made him smirk to see the bloom of pink over her features. "Really?"

He edged towards her, staring at her lips and wanting to kiss her again, just to feel that electricity race down his spine and that crazy feeling of 'home' welling up in him again. "I think…that I've seen you as more than a friend for a little while now. I haven't even looked at other women since you came barrelling right into my life with your food and your genuine kindness," Don said, reaching forward and leaning towards her again. "I just want to see…" he murmured as their lips connected briefly once more, Savannah allow the contact for a few moments before breaking away, blurting, "I don't want to compete with a dead woman."

The words stopped Flack in his tracks. A pensive look crossed over his face. "You won't. I don't know if I'll be fully be over Jess – but she's not at the forefront of my mind. I don't think of her when I'm with you. Not like that. It doesn't mean I don't find you attractive or want you," he replied softly. When he had kissed her again, he had felt it. That crazy blend of emotions that said it was right.

"Listen, Don…I don't think this is the right time…I've just finished bawling my eyes out to you, and I think I've had enough emotional upheaval today. I'll think about it," Savannah offered. She then heard what it sounded like and cringed as Don leaned back, looking crestfallen.

"You don't like me like that," he concluded. He had felt the sting of rejection plainly in her words.

"No! It's not that I don't find you handsome or wonderful in all the ways I want in a potential partner," she hastened to assure him, this time making the move towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, making sure he didn't look away. "I care about you deeply, Don. More than a friend as well and I've been scared about acting on it because of both of our grief states. I find you a very attractive man and if this had been any other day I would have done something different. Right now, it's just a bit insensitive," Anna admitted. He frowned and went to reply, and she placed a gentle finger over his lips before trailing it down to rest her hand over his heart. Don sat silently, wondering what would happen.

"I do want to know this more intimately. Just give me a few days and I will be right as rain and able to put this through my head clearer. And until then, I want you to consider this," Savannah said, letting the truth of the words be expressed in every cell of her body.

Flack placed his hand over hers that was on his chest. "Okay, you're right, my timing is beyond crap – I _am_ really sorry about what happened to your friends, I didn't mean to neglect that. We'll do that, the considering thing. But I already know what it's gonna be because when I kissed you I have never been more sure of anything. It felt right."

The brunette let the corners of her mouth tip up and said, "You did help me feel good."

The moment turned awkward when they realised they were supposed to be cooling off. Flack stood, murmuring, "Looks like I gotta go and…ah…consider." They then looked at the clock. It was 1am.

"Wow," Savannah remarked. "Did we really talk for all that time?"

"Looks like we did," he replied, yawning, Seeing it, Savannah reached out and pulled him back down to the couch, much to his surprise. "Wha-?"

"It's too late and you're too tired to be driving home. Just crash here for the night. I'm sure the couch won't mind, or, if you prefer, the sofa bed in the other room," she supplied, getting up and taking a blanket out from the chest at the end of the couch. She offered it to him, smirking at his bewildered expression. "What are you looking at?"

"Just how you go from melancholy to normal in 3.3 seconds as soon as there's someone for you to look after."

"I'm just wired that way. It's a good defence mechanism to keep me from dwelling on negativity, at least."

Flack made a 'hmm' noise in agreement and took the blanket. "You sure you want the guy who just stole a few kisses from you to be sleeping on your couch when you're less than 20 feet away?" he teased.

Savannah gave him an odd look and then pushed him down onto the couch, initiating a kiss with a quick, passionate press of her lips. As she pulled away, Flack grinned. She smirked in return, satisfied at having gotten the last 'word.' "I think I'm pretty capable of stealing my own kisses thank you very much. Get to sleep detective…you have some considering to do in the morning," she bantered confidently. She then pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured, "Thanks for being the best person a woman could ever ask for."

"You are very welcome," Don replied warmly. He hadn't been able to stop smiling since Savannah had kissed him. As she turned off the lights and bade him good night, he couldn't stop drinking in the sight of her, more aware of her, and doubly more aware of how attracted he was to her. Settling in on the plush grey couch, he pondered on the sudden rush of affection for Savannah.

He wanted to see where this went.

Don knew he had been holding back for at least a month – all thanks to denial. It was time to take the bull by the horns and see if he and Anna could be together.

* * *

The next morning was a little awkward, but soon the two resumed their normal friendliness, only with lingering, teasing looks. They shared coffee and toast before heading down to Flack's precinct. He had brought up a valid point that he didn't like the fact that both Wallace, and Amanda and James's murderer hadn't been caught, and he decided to speed up Savannah's gun licensing. He wanted her to be able to carry concealed just in case – he knew what a dangerous place New York could be.

Anna didn't like the gun, but due to their repeated sessions at a local gun range, she had a respect for the weapon she didn't have before. She knew how to use one. And use it well. Flack had seen to it.

Fortunately for Don he carried a spare suit in the trunk of his car so it didn't look like he was doing the walk of shame when he got to the PD. When they entered, loud calls of greeting met them. Specifically, Savannah. She beamed at the men and women who had visited her cafe, reciprocating the greetings while Don rolled his eyes and muttered, "Look who's the little celebrity around here."

"You can only blame yourself," joked Savannah, "you did, after all, bring me more business."

They went to Flack's desk and the cafe owner looked around, fascinated. "So this is what the precinct looks like," she said.

"Yep."

"Nice desk. I'm surprised that it's so orderly after all the times you have whinged about paperwork." Savannah grinned as Don gave her a 'thanks for reminding me' look and shrugged, leaning against it. "Don't give me that look. If you go a week without mentioning paperwork I'll make you cheesecake," she promised temptingly.

Flack flicked his eyes over her form, leaning against his desk in an unconsciously seductive way in her tight jeans, shirt, and sandals. Her hair was loose and her eyes were sparkling with her usual merriment. One night's sleep and Anna was as fresh as a daisy, no trace of the vulnerable woman from the night before, and he almost forgot himself – she still had some of her own grief lingering. "You better not go promising things that you won't deliver on if I manage it," he retorted cheekily, hoping to lift her mood further.

They shared a laugh, and Don went to the locked drawer to retrieve her practice .22 calibre.

Meanwhile outside the PD, Mac walked up, files in his hands. His stride was purposeful, determined, and he was oblivious to anything aside from the information that he had gotten on the two boys case.

Well, oblivious to almost anything.

"Detective Taylor!" a male voice called from the precinct doors.

Looking up, the CSI recognised the older man instantly. "Hey Cliff, how's life treatin' you?" he asked genially.

Cliff Angell smiled and shook Mac's hand once he came in range. "Can't complain too much. My boys are good and the wife has been alright. What about you?"

Mac held up the file. "Tough cases, the usual," he replied. "What are you here for?"

"I was in the area. I thought I'd come and see Flack, I haven't seen the lad since I invited him to Jessie's posthumous birthday. See how he's coping, how he is, all those things. Might say hi to my old friends," Cliff explained as he and Mac entered the reception of the precinct.

"He's doing well. Wait until you see him. He's found a new friend who has really been there for him lately, so Don's been really on top of his game," Mac informed the retired cop.

The light in Cliff's eyes brightened. "Good, good. That kid needs some happiness."

They made the rest of the journey to the bullpen in companionable silence. When they got there, the sound of feminine and masculine laughter was what hit them first. As Mac pushed open the doors, the two saw Don and Anna, looking very friendly and at ease with each other. The head of the crime lab went to move towards the pair, but noticed that Cliff was no longer beside him. He whirled around to see Cliff stopped stock still, mouth parted in shock and his eyes riveted on Savannah. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"Cliff?"

"Mac…come back here," Cliff said slowly, backing away.

Frowning, Mac followed him as Cliff strode around the corner to the lesser used hallway to the locker room. There he stopped and waited for Mac to catch up to him. "What's the matter?"

"That girl…that was with Don, who is she?"

"She's a friend of his. She opened up a cafe where the Tillary Diner used to be. They met when Flack went to tell her to get out of town but she stood up to him. I went there, found her to be a wonderful person and dragged him back there. They've been friends ever since…a bit closer than friends, actually. She's been through tough stuff just like he has," Mac explained, wondering why Cliff was asking about this. "Why do you ask?"

"What's her name?" Cliff ignored the question to ask one of his own.

"Savannah…but most people shorten it to Anna," replied the younger detective.

Cliff sucked in a breath and then he chuckled. "Ah, even from the grave Jessie's a tricky one," he muttered, just loud enough for Mac to hear.

"Cliff, you're not making sense," Mac stated bluntly, crossing his arms and trying to guess what he was playing at. Cliff held up his hands and made a placating motion with his hands before stepping a little closer to the CSI.

"This is going to sound nuts, but around about early January I have this really vivid dream. As I've gotten older, those are few and far between," Cliff described, animatedly gesturing with his hands. "But this one has stuck in my head since then. It was Jessie, and she was sitting in the Tillary Diner with her usual eggs over easy, turkey bacon and juice. She looked to be waiting for me, for she smiled and got up to hug me. She when went back to the table and suddenly, there's this other woman there. Her and Jessie were laughing about something – Jess teased her about not being a sports fan. The other girl said her food makes up for any deficiency. My daughter then turns to me and says, 'Isn't she lovely dad? Isn't she pretty?' When I replied yes, she laughed again and said, 'Her name is Anna. I'm going to guide her towards Don…I think you'll see her soon.' And the Anna in my dream looked _exactly_ like the Anna that's out there with Don right now. Same laugh, same smile, everything." Seeing Mac's slightly sceptical expression, Cliff earnestly said, "I'm telling you Mac, this is what I saw in the dream."

"It sounds far-fetched, but I've never known you to make up flights of fancy Cliff," assured Mac. Still, he couldn't help but be fascinated by this happening. He had been thinking recently that Don and Anna would be a good match. Cliff's dream made it seem much more fateful.

Cliff shook his head in amazement. "I couldn't believe it when I saw her," he replied. He then looked at his watch. "I have to go. Take care Mac."

"You're not going to say hello to him now?"

"Nah, he's in good hands," Cliff answered with a wink. He saluted and then walked off, whistling a jaunty tune.

Mac raised an eyebrow but shook it off, work mode coming back into force. The files were still in his hands, and he really needed to talk to Don about them. He re-entered the bullpen just as it looked like Flack and Savannah were going to take off. "Flack," he called out. When the tall detective looked up at him, he made his way over and waved the file. "Got some information on the Marts and Caldwell murders."

Flack grimaced and looked toward Savannah. "Raincheck?" he asked hopefully.

"You know it. Hope you catch 'em, boys," she replied good naturedly, hugging Mac and then Don, before turning and strutting out of the precinct.

Flack's eyes were glued to her silhouette until she was out of sight.

"A-hem."

"So what's the info?" he asked, hoping Mac wouldn't notice where his attention strayed.

Mac wisely pretended to be momentarily unobservant and held out a sheet of paper. "DNA came back on the metal piece from the murder weapon. Turns out that a nurse broke protocol and got a NYPD friend to enter Callum Swicky's blood into CODIS because she feared that his abuse would leave him faceless in a ditch one day. The blood matches his," he said.

"That little boy's blood was already on the handsaw? That's sick," Flack muttered, his good mood evaporating, the detective's hassles coming back full force. His cop face settled into place. "I think we should go pay the Swicky residence a much needed visit."

"I couldn't agree more."

* * *

It was an unkempt house in the worst part of Queens.

Just parked in front of it gave both detectives a creepy feeling. "Sheesh, what a place to raise a kid," Flack said.

Mac didn't reply, choosing to step out and loosen the gun in his holster. Flack followed and they walked up the front steps. Mac knocked. "Mr. Swicky? This is the NYPD."

No response. Mac knocked harder, hard enough that the weak lock gave way, the rotting door swinging inward to reveal a gloomy house that may once have been cosy in its heyday. There were little personal effects, and there were empty beer bottles everywhere. Both men had their guns out now, alerting the uniforms they had with them to do a perimeter check. They split up, moving slowly, communicating with hand movements. Flack moved into a bedroom and quickly checked it. It looked like this is where Charles Swicky, the father, slept. Trashy magazines were in a pile next to the bowed bed, and in addition to the beer bottles, there was also vodka and rum. He pulled an expression of revulsion at the state of the room. It was a pigsty – grimy walls, dirt strewn on the carpet, and he didn't even want to know what those white stains were on the ugly baby-poo brown sheets.

He heard Mac covering the living and dining areas, and so went to the next room.

He swore his heart stopped when he saw a little bloody handprint on the light switch next to the door. He was no CSI, but even Flack could tell that it was old and dried. He shone his flashlight around the space. It would probably seem to be the cleanest room in the whole house. The bed was made, and there were piles of books stacked neatly. The only mess was in the dirty carpet and in the few broken toys scattered around.

Flack was about to leave the room when his keen ears picked up the slight sound of someone shuffling on the floor.

Turning, he said, "If anyone's here, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm with the police."

Another slight shuffling sound, but the person didn't come to light. When he heard a sneeze, the detective knew he had to try another tactic. He went over to the bed and kneeled down beside it, and careful to keep his movements as slow and as unthreatening as possible, he peeked underneath.

Big brown eyes and flaming hair met his gaze.

Little lips trembled as the boy whispered. "Hi."

"Hello there," Flack replied softly. "My name is Don…what's yours?"

"Callum…Callum Swicky, although my daddy calls me brat," Callum replied with the tone of a child that knew too much.

"You wanna come out here? If you are hurt anywhere, I've got some bandaids and perhaps a chocolate milk if you cooperate," the blue eyed man offered. Callum seemed to consider this for a few moments before he crawled out, Flack helping him up. It was then he saw the young boy's condition.

His blue shirt had old, dried bloodstains on it. His neck had big purple bruises and a fading bruise ringed his left eye. He had what looked like to be fresh cigarette burns on his hands and Flack saw old scars littering the boys arms. His clothing looked old and worn, like it had been picked up from a donated clothes bin. The lines of concern creased Flack's forehead. "Is there anywhere else you are hurt Callum?"

Nodding, Callum pointed to the back of his head. "I bumped my head on the bed trying t' get away from daddy, and my ankle hurts," he replied. Flack nodded and went to reach for the ankle to see if it was twisted or bruised, but Callum flinched violently. He stopped and looked the boy dead in the eyes. "I'm just going to check it. If it's not too bad, it means you can walk out of here."

Callum looked suspicious but nodded anyway.

Thankfully, the ankle was merely bruised, but something about the shape made Flack pause. There was that same indentation on the boys that got murdered the previous morning. It looked very similar to the autopsy photos. "All good, buddy," he said, standing and going out into the hallway. Callum looked indecisive before following, deciding to trust the man.

Mac came up, grim faced, toting a big brown evidence bag. "I found the murder weapon…and what I think is the primary crime scene. There's a lot of blood in a shed out back." He noticed the redhead boy and softened his tone. "I called Stella, she's on the way to help process. What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I'll get one of the unis to come in and take your notes. I gotta get this little guy to the hospital – hopefully Child Services can help sort him out," replied Flack, mentioning towards the battered kid. "Any sign of Swicky?"

"No."

"I'll put an alert on him then. It's looking more and more like he's our guy."

They parted ways and Don drove the quiet little boy to the hospital in Manhattan. It would be closer to the PD and easier for them to keep an eye on Callum. Once there, he ushered him in gently, going immediately to the reception and snagging a nurse. She instantly saw what required their attention and summoned a doctor, satisfied with Flack's detective badge.

Callum had not said a word the entire time.

Luckily there was a doctor free to tend to the boy straight away, and they all went to a private room so he could examine Callum. Flack excused himself, trying to make contact with Child Services. To his irritation, not only did it take a long time for him to be responded to, but he was told that due to budget cuts and quitting rates of workers and the fact today was auditing day on the department that it would take a few hours before there could be a worker even be remotely available. Not that he didn't want to help the kid, but the adrenalin was pumping now. He could almost imagine confronting Charles Swicky about the atrocities he had committed.

"Detective?" the doctor said through the door.

Flack went back in, noticing that Callum looked a bit teary as he lay on the bed, bandages covering his burns and other injuries. "He wants to talk to you," the doctor said, nodding and leaving, making notes in a book.

Once he left, Callum asked timidly, "Can I get that chocolate milk?"

"Sure thing buddy. I tell you what, I have a friend who makes the most awesome milkshakes. If you want, I can get her to bring something else too if you like. You hungry?" Don asked quietly, sitting on a nearby chair so he was on an equal level with the little boy. He noted that although he was only 11, Callum looked like a seven year old.

Callum nodded and asked sweetly, "Have I been a good boy Mister Don? Daddy says only good boys get real food and treats."

Don swore his heart just cracked for this kid. Meanwhile, anger bubbled up. It was unimaginable that this boy had to ask just to have normal food. He quickly answered so Callum didn't get the idea he had been bad. "You have been a very good boy. You can tell me whatever you want, and I guarantee you that my lady friend will bring it," he promised with a small smile.

Callum brightened considerably in spite of his injuries. "A chocolate milkshake and a chicken burger? I haven't had one in so long," he replied with a tiny smile back at his rescuer.

"Milkshake and a burger it is. I'm just going to make the call, okay?"

"Okay."

Outside the room again, Flack swore softly and ran a hand through his hair. How he managed to catch some of the more retarded cases he would never know. He called Savannah, hoping she wouldn't mind coming. When she answered, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, I know I only saw you a few hours ago, but I need to ask you a favour."

"Shoot."

"You too busy to do it?"

"Nah, I'm good. I can get away for a bit if need be. Why Don, what do you need?" Savannah asked kindly.

"Listen, you know the case about the boys? Well I've got a potential witness in the hospital with me. He's 11 and his name is Callum. And he would really like a milkshake and a chicken burger," Flack replied.

"Done and dusted. I can be there within half an hour – I've got Jacks' car today. Anything else?"

The detective hesitated for a moment and thought he might as well ask. "Can you stick around for a few hours? I know because of last night that you've got your own shit to get through, but I thought I'd ask anyway. I called Child Services already but they're too busy to look after this boy. I'm warning you now Anna…he looks beaten up but he's the sweetest thing."

"Sure. Jacks didn't think I should have come in today anyway because of last night so she'll be pleased. I'll see you soon," she replied and hung up.

Relieved, Don went back into the room. "The order is all set," he mentioned to Callum. When he nodded, Flack decided he might as well see if he could get some answers. "Callum…why did your daddy do this to you?"

Callum shrugged, twiddling his thumbs. "I don't know sometimes. Sometimes it's because daddy drinks too much. Other times it's because I didn't get my chores done quick enough. Last night it was because I had friends," he replied in a little hollowed voice, his earlier momentary excitement about the food gone.

"Can you tell me a bit more about it?"

Callum shook his head. "Daddy said I shouldn't talk about it to anyone or he'll get mad. I don't like to see him mad."

"Well Callum, my name is Don, not Anyone…so that makes it okay and just our little secret, right?" Flack asked, trying to deal with child logic. "And I'm also a detective, which means I can protect you if your dad gets mad." He pulled his badge off the clip and handed it to the boy, who stared at it in fascination. He turned it over a few times in his hands, tracing the numbers.

"Pretty," Callum remarked before handing it back.

"It is," agreed Flack.

"Daddy said that I can't have friends because they get nosy, like Timmy and Paul were. He said that a brat should never have friends because they get hurt when they stick their nose in where it doesn't belong," the little boy finally said in a sad voice. His eyes filled with tears. "My daddy hurt my friends so bad Mister Don. They were returning my school bag and they saw daddy hitting me for not doing the dishes fast enough. They screamed at him that they were going to call the cops."

Motive. It all clicked for the detective. He leaned forward and gently urged Callum on. "What happened then?"

"Daddy threw me in my room, but I could hear my friends screaming…I could hear him punch them. I heard daddy yelling. I heard a door slam and heard him take them to the shed." Callum shuddered in fear. "I hate that shed. Daddy only takes me there if I've been a very bad boy. He has a tool he uses…it's not nice."

And Don was pretty sure he knew exactly what tool it was.

"Callum, you have been very helpful…a very good boy, okay?" he assured slowly, hoping to impress that on the youngster.

Callum managed to smile again. "Thanks Mister Don."

Flack's phone buzzed with a text. Seeing it was Savannah, he quickly made his way out of the room to meet her in the reception. When he saw her, he didn't expect the sudden rush of longing (and no, it wasn't for the delicious meal he could smell). The sight of her calmed his need to rush after the man who had destroyed three little boys lives. He greeted her with a grim smile and she came up to him, embracing him easily. He returned it briefly. "Glad you're here."

"I can tell…where is he?" Savannah asked, already striding forward purposefully.

Flack just jerked his head towards a corridor and they headed down it. They returned to the room where Callum waited in anticipation. As Savannah entered, she smiled at the redhead. "Hi there Callum. My name is Anna. I'm a friend of Don's," she introduced herself, holding out her hand.

Shaking it, Callum replied, "Mister Don said that you make nice food."

"I do." Savannah opened up the paper bag and produced a wrapped package. She grabbed the hospital tray and laid out the burger before producing a chocolate milkshake in a Styrofoam cup. "I promise that you can eat and drink as much of that as you want," she said sincerely, taking the seat Don had sat in. Flack stood next to her, smiling as Callum lit up, the bond of trust instantly there. He immediately reached for the milk and took a sip. A little sigh escaped him.

"Miss Anna, this is so yummy…I haven't had one since mommy died," the boy said happily.

What was a joyful event for Callum only highlighted the tragedy for the two adults. Savannah, still a little emotional from the previous night, felt tears spring to her eyes as she watched Callum pace himself through the drink so he wouldn't make himself sick. "Good God Don…it's worse than you said," she whispered to him.

"Which is why I called you. I couldn't bear to leave the kid alone while I run around town trying to find the bastard that did this to the boys," replied the detective in a whisper.

"Some people should never be parents," Savannah muttered acidly under her breath.

Flack nodded. He knew that all too well thanks to his experiences. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. "I have to run…but take good care of him."

"I will. But before you go…" Savannah trailed off as she dipped back into the bag and pulled out another wrapped package. "Your favourite kind of pastrami sandwich. Just in case this turns into another double for you," she said.

Taking it, Flack dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Always thoughtful. I'll call you later to check if the Child Services worker has come yet."

"Don't lose your head," Savannah cautioned.

"Never."

Flack left, saying goodbye to Callum and promising to come and visit him soon. When he was gone, Callum started on the chicken burger. While he was happily chewing away, Savannah decided to distract herself by doing the crossword in the paper. She had gotten through four of the questions before a little voice said, "Miss Anna…this is the most yummy thing I've ever eaten."

Savannah looked up and saw those big brown eyes, full of gratitude, and it made her feel a mass of empathy for him. "Oh, you're welcome honey," she replied, getting up and carefully embracing him, mindful of the injuries. "You're so welcome. I'm very glad you're enjoying it."

There was a little sniffle from Callum. "You smell just like my mom did," he whispered.

"Is that a good thing?" Savannah asked, leaning back and caressing his forehead.

The redhead nodded. "Yep. Mommy used to bake all the time. She always made chocolate cookies," he replied.

Touched, feeling the hurt from the memory of Amanda and James's death heal over a bit more in knowing there were people that were alive that she was helping, the cafe owner hugged the little boy again.

She prayed that Don would catch the abusive bastard soon.

* * *

Flack reunited with Mac and the team in the Crime Lab.

As of yet, there had been no sign of Swicky – he wasn't at the house, or his job, or at his local watering holes as told by his workmates. They pooled all the evidence together and quickly went over the case.

"According to the statement of Callum, Paul and Timmy dropped past his house and saw his abuse and threatened to call 911. Charles freaks out, locks his son up and then kills the kids for their silence because he's a mean, boozy bastard who has no impulse control. Is that about the size of it?" clarified Flack.

"Looks like it," Mac agreed gravely. "Adam ran the handsaw I found at the house – it tested positive for all three boys blood, but he said that by running a few extra tests that Callum's blood was older than the other two. Fits with the theory he's an abuser of the worst kind. We also matched the bruises on the two murdered boys with the pictures of Callum's bruises that the doctor took at the hospital. There's that same strange indentation that looks like it comes from a ring. We also found evidence that Swicky was institutionalised as a teenager for borderline personality disorder under the name Charles Smith, which coupled with the alcohol adds to the reason why he was so violent."

"Not to mention the statement you got from Callum," Stella added.

Danny suddenly ran up to them. "Hey, dispatch just called me – looks like a rookie picked up Swicky once one of his friends saw him entering his favourite bar near the house," he announced.

Flack and Mac immediately departed, gathering all the evidence they had as they headed back down to the PD. As they entered, they saw a police officer attempting to wrangle an enraged Charles Swicky into the interrogation room. He was madder than a spitting cat, fighting the handcuffs and shouting incomprehensible things. Mac and Flack glanced at each other as if to say 'this is going to be fun.' They followed and told the arresting officer to stand outside the door while they dealt with Swicky. Swicky had taken being there with ill ease, sitting in the chair and glaring at the pair as they came in.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"For you to confess to murder and abuse, but then that would make my job too easy," Flack shot back, letting Mac take the chair while he stood behind him.

Swicky was bald with beady black eyes. Flack could see how Callum would be afraid that he would get mad.

"I dunno what the heck you talking about, bacon," Swicky replied, sneering at the two of them.

Both detectives kept their cool as Mac pulled crime scene photos and evidence photos and reports and laid them out on the table. "Maybe this can refresh your memory."

Upon seeing the amount of evidence against him, Swicky shrugged. He knew that there was no point to arguing and playing a game if they had this much against him. "I'm surprised. You pigs actually did your jobs right," he said disdainfully.

"Did they teach you that insult in high school? But I bet you never got quite that far, huh Swicky?" Flack taunted, annoyed at the murderer.

Swicky focussed his attention on the taller detective. "Don't you go insultin' me."

"Considering you are a child abuser and a murderer, I reckon you kinda deserve it, but hey, that might just be me," he retorted coolly.

Swicky instantly went from pissed to downright barbaric and he lurched out of his chair, unable to stand due to the handcuffed hands. "That brat told you didn't he? That little rat! I should have killed him along with his nosy bastard friends! They got what they deserved, stickin' it where it don't belong. Besides, the little shit was going to hospital lately instead of toughening up like a man," he bellowed.

Mac got up and moved away. He stood next to Flack, glaring at the furious murderer. "Well I'll tell you this…you're going to have fun toughening up in prison…you know what they do to paedophiles and child abusers," he replied sagely. "Once fingerprints we pulled off the saw come back as yours, and your son testifies, you'll be saying hello to Rikers." He then walked around behind the snarling Swicky and tapped the ring on his finger which looked like a roaring lion. "And let's not forget this very unique ring mark you left on all three boys bodies."

Swicky yelled and kicked off the chair, landing on Mac behind him. Flack rushed to aid his friend, pulling the beefy man off him and pressing him to the wall. "You alright Mac?" he asked, grimacing as Swicky attempted to spit on him.

"Yeah, he didn't even leave a mark. He's not so tough now he's got someone his own size," the CSI replied in a serious tone.

"We can always take it outside Grandpa," Swicky taunted.

Flack rolled his eyes. "I'm seriously beginning to think you read a book called 'How to insult – for dummies.' If that's the most imaginative thing you can come up with, you're gonna have a bad time," he snarked, double checking the cuffs. Without a word, he marched Swicky out to central booking to put him behind bars. An hour and a few headaches later, he was headed back to the hospital.

The DA had been beyond impressed and all they had to wait on was some fingerprint analysis from the lab to have an airtight case.

Saving New York one fuckhead at a time.

Flack was just glad that this was another one of those hard cases that got solved very quickly thanks to witnesses. He made his way back to the room he had left Savannah and Callum in. Just as he got there, he heard footsteps and turned around, seeing someone from Child Services.

"I'm so sorry for the delay Detective Flack. We have been very short staffed lately," the Hispanic woman said, putting her hand out and introducing herself. "Maria Costa."

"At least you're finally here and that's what matters. You know the particulars?"

"Yes. As I understand this, you found the boy in a house all alone with signs of abuse – this same boy that has come to the hospital with bruises and broken bones on more than one occasion, correct?" Maria clarified.

"Yeah. Kid was real shaken up. We've got the abuser behind bars now, though," replied Don, remembering the caution Callum had displayed. "I had to leave so I had a trustworthy friend of mine come and look after him."

The Child Services worker frowned. "Not that I'm doubting your judgement detective, but it's not exactly policy-"

"So I'm supposed to put policy over the needs of a frightened little boy who hasn't had a decent meal in God knows how long and thinks that he's been a bad boy?" he asked sardonically. Maria's frown deepened. "Yeah, sure, that'll happen."

"We're on the same side. I just have a job to do," Costa said, mollified.

"Good, so let's see what we can do about this boy." With that, Don turned and opened up the door to the room slowly, peering through. He smiled at the picture presented before him. It was a very 'aw' moment. Callum was curled up on his side facing Savannah, half-asleep and holding onto one of the brunette's hands. Meanwhile she was stroking his hair and humming some little lullaby. Flack put a finger to his lips as he beckoned Maria in.

Savannah noticed them then, and her eyes widened in surprise. Her humming stopped, but Callum groaned in annoyance. She quickly hummed again, bringing a smile to the boy's face.

Maria smiled. "I stand corrected," she muttered.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Don't be so smug detective."

"I like it when I'm right," shrugged Flack.

At last, Callum fell completely into sleep and Savannah rose. "The doctor came by about a half hour ago and put more cream on his bruises, rewrapping the bandages. They want to keep him a little while longer for observation they said," she informed them softly. She looked to Don. "Did you get him?"

"Behind bars," Don confirmed.

Savannah smiled brightly. "I'm glad. He's so sweet…he doesn't deserve things like that to happen to him."

"No child does," chimed in Maria. She reached out and shook Savannah's hand. "Thank you for watching over him. You have a natural instinct which is plain to see."

"It was no drama. What will happen to him now?"

"Once all the right procedures are followed, Callum will go into foster care. We do have some eligible people available as of this time. But because of the circumstances, if you like, I can make sure that your name and number can be passed on to the new parents when the time comes so that Callum can see you if he so wishes," Costa described, getting a card and handing it to Savannah. She filled it out and handed it back to the Hispanic woman.

Later as Don and Anna left the hospital, he turned to her and took her hand. "There's that instinct and the potential it has again."

Rolling her eyes, she admonished lightly, "Drop it Don."

"Just sayin.'"

"And I'm saying that I have to dash off now," Savannah teased, dropping his hand and walking off.

"Hey! What was that?" he called after her.

Savannah turned and with a mischievous smile and wink, replied, "Consideration."

* * *

**A/N: OH GOD THIS ONE WAS MASSIVE! My fingers are sore. Maybe now I can actually concentrate on my exams instead of this just BUGGING me. Writing this chapter and all the ups and downs in it just completely consumed me. **

**Next chap will be less intense but not less entertaining ;) It won't be out until Sunday morning though (Aus time) as I need to get some serious study time in. **

**So go on, tell me what you thought :D**


	21. Sound Advice

**A/N: Another chapter that is early thanks to the muse. (Sigh…she hates exams). Thank you to my reviewers. You all know who you are. You guys are so fantastic, and I love the support you give. What happens now? Read on and find out ;)**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 20 – Sound Advice**

* * *

_You wear your smile like a summer sky  
Just shining down on me and you  
I swear your heart is a free bird  
On a lazy Sunday afternoon _

**Lady Antebellum – Our Kind of Love**

* * *

"Dude, why are you so happy?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about Messer."

"Sure you don't. I mean, I guess it's just normal for you now to have random grins at the weirdest times when there's nothing funny going on," Danny replied knowingly. He and Flack were on a quick coffee break while they were canvassing the area for witnesses on a bashed murder victim in Central Park. He went over to a nearby bench and sat, looking expectantly at his friend. "You better tell me before I assume and make things up that are probably more out there than what's actually happened."

Don raised an eyebrow. "And what do you think has happened?"

"Either you got laid or you got a bonus pay check," retorted Danny cheekily.

Flack rolled his eyes. "Neither," he answered.

"Oh come on, the other day we had one of the worst cases of the year and today you start smiling randomly when you think no one is looking," the CSI pointed out. "Could it be a certain cafe owner?"

"No. Shoo fly, don't bother me."

"Ooooh, instantly defensive! Tell me Flack, what's goin' on?"

"_Nothing_ is going on," Flack enunciated slowly, as if speaking to a young child. He took a sip of his coffee and gestured to leave. "C'mon Messer, we've got witnesses to find, and I'm near the end of my patience after that stoner kid."

"Cool it. Why won't you answer me honestly?" Danny countered, a little more sincere. "Look, I promise not to hassle you about it if you tell me."

"Yeah right."

"At least for today."

"You are like this annoying little yappy dog in the floor above me. You just don't stop when you're onto something," Don complained, but seeing Danny's sincere eyes, he considered relenting. After all, he was still supposed to be 'considering' as Savannah called it. What was there to consider? He liked her. Respected her and cared for her deeply and always wanted to be around her – especially lately. He wanted to explore this.

"C'mon Flack, you hardly talk to anyone about the personal stuff much. I'm your buddy!" Danny exclaimed.

"You are. You better stay by your promise cos it _is_ about Anna," Flack replied nonchalantly.

Danny suddenly grinned. "Hehehe, I knew it. So dish it, what's got you smiling like an eighth-grader with a massive crush?"

"And this reaction is exactly the reason I don't talk to you about these kinds of things," scowled the taller detective. He gave his friend a mild glare. "It's nothing much yet. You know the day we found out about the boys? That night I went to see her to talk it out and…well, she was upset about something I can't really tell you about, but I don't know man…I just felt like kissin' her, so I did."

"And?"

"And she pulled away. She said it wasn't that she didn't like me, but that she didn't want me to be confused about my feelings for her, so apparently I'm supposed to be 'considering' what I want," Don replied honestly.

Danny leaned back in his seat, smiling. "So you've been recalling that kiss huh? What's your choice man?"

"Yes. And as for the choice, of course I want to. You know Anna, she's gorgeous and she can hold her own against any of the guys and you and me. She's a tough cookie with a big heart and I think this could work. I didn't understand why she wanted me to consider." He moved to sit next to Danny, fiddling with his coffee cup and admitting, "I realised I've been feeling that way about her since the ball."

"She just probably just wants to make sure that you aren't making a mistake – that you got your head on straight. Cos she knows about Jess and she wants to make sure you want her, not the feeling of being with someone again," Danny reasoned.

"Gee Dr. Phil, when did you learn this stuff?" deadpanned Flack.

The Italian grimaced. "Lindsay bought me a book…I didn't know if it was a joke, but it was called 'How to be tactful and considerate – the tools for life.' But that was in there."

Don chuckled at the thought of Lindsay getting such a book for her husband. "Okay, I'll take that as a valid point. But I know Savannah is Savannah, not Jess."

"Why you tellin' me that? Tell her!" he exclaimed.

"Aaaaand that sensitivity is gone," said Flack.

"Look Don, I'm just sayin' go for it! I fucked up so many times with Linds that I catch myself some days and go, how the hell is it that she still stays with me? I'm blessed because of her, because I took that chance and finally got my head right. Now I've got a beautiful little family because of it," Danny explained earnestly. He looked down at his hands, rubbing them together and then turning to Don. "If it means anything to you, I think Anna's what you need. I haven't seen you like this in a while, and it's nice to see some of the old you shining through. That, and I think you'd be good to her too."

Don finished off the rest of his coffee, thinking about what his friend had said. A bolt of inspiration suddenly hit and a twinkle appeared in his eyes. "I know what I'm going to do."

"Oh do ya?"

"And I'm not telling you, nosy."

"Oh, I'm hurt. I just told you all the secrets of my heart and this is the way you treat me?" Danny cried dramatically.

"Yep. Come on drama queen, we got work to do," teased Flack, moving away before Danny could protest.

* * *

"I can't believe you guys! I've already had too many days off already!"

"Can you ever just accept the nice stuff people do for you?" Lindsay quipped good-naturedly. "Besides, this is only for a few hours and we caught you in the afternoon so that they can close up. Right Stell?"

"Yep. Besides, do you want to disappoint us by not coming along for some pampering?" the Grecian woman asked.

"You are both so evil, playing my guilt trip like that," Savannah protested, but she was smiling. She was kind of glad that the two CSI women had been considerate enough to think of her when heading out for their ladies day.

"Yes, yes we are," deadpanned the shorter woman.

"You learned from Danny, he's corrupted you," teased the cafe owner.

"I plead the fifth."

All three woman giggled as they entered the spa that Stella had booked for them. It was a nice, classy place done up in a black and white scheme. Stella marched up to the counter and inquired, "A group booking for Bonasera?"

The receptionist nodded. "Yes, I have you down and paid for. If you'll just follow your therapist through the doors, we hope you'll find all our services today to your satisfaction."

Soon, the three of them were settled in a room together while beauticians gave them manicures and pedicures, sharing idle gossip. Stella suddenly got a sly look in her eye and put forth a question. "Hey Anna, you know how we picked you up from the cafe today…was that Don's Yankees cap on your counter that I saw? His is the only one I know of that's been signed by Derek Jeter _and_ A-Rod on the brim."

"Yes it was…he left it at my place the other night," Savannah revealed, and then she stopped, realising what she had just said.

"Oooh, what was Don doing at your place?" Lindsay grinned, leaning towards the dark haired woman in anticipation.

"More importantly, how come he left his most prized and favourite cap there?" added Stella with a mischievous smirk, hoping that something big had happened between the two.

Savannah fought the blush rising on her face. "It's not what you think. He came over to talk about the case with the little boys and he must have left it there by accident the next morning," she said.

Stella and Lindsay both looked skeptical.

"So…he stayed overnight?"

"He slept on the couch and I slept in my bed if that was the little detail you guys were wanting to hear," Savannah said, a touch acerbically. "Do you think that I'm that kind of woman? Or that he's that kind of man? It was nothing, a simple innocent sleepover."

"It's not that we think of you like that, it's that…well, we've kinda been seeing the sparks flying between the two of you for a little while now, and all of us on the team have been hoping that something would come of it soon. If anyone deserves some happiness, it's Don. And we like you," Lindsay replied, her and Stella realising just how important it was to their friend.

Anna twisted her head from side to side to look at both of them. "You've seen sparks flying?" she said quietly. She then blushed and put her head in her hands, ignoring her manicurist's admonitions. "Oh God, have I been that obvious that I like him like that?" she asked the both of them.

"If we weren't detectives you would have gotten off scot free," assured Stella. "We noticed it _before_ the ball that you had a bit of a thing for him."

"This is so embarrassing," she mumbled behind her hands.

"Don't be," Lindsay said, admiring the shade of blue on her nails as her beautician moved onto her toes. "At least you don't work with him. Trust me, that's harder."

"You don't understand, I didn't know Don liked me like that until that night…he _kissed_ me and I told him to consider everything before he made a decision!" Savannah blurted.

Stella and Lindsay were silent for a few beats before Lindsay cheered and Stella cried, "Yes!"

Savannah finally looked at them with an unsmiling expression. "Thanks for the sympathy girls," she said.

"Are you kidding me? This is great! This is what we wanted to happen since…" the Grecian woman stopped herself before she revealed her involvement in the whole ball debacle. She didn't think that the other woman would like to know about that. "Well, since we really got to know you. I don't know if you've noticed, but he's changed since you've been in town! And because we've known him so long, it hurt us to know how much he suffered with Jess. You pulled him away from a harder path," Stella justified.

"Don't worry, Flack probably won't hold it against you that you told him to hold it. It just shows _your_ consideration of him and his issues," Lindsay chimed in. "How did _you_ feel about it anyway?"

A little smile crept over Savannah's face as she remembered the feel and shape of his lips against hers. "Like floating," she replied simply.

"Oh she has it bad," chuckled Stella.

* * *

After the pampering – which also included a surprise massage – Savannah had to be rushed back to her cafe so she could count the cash. She was just in time to see Jacks finish mopping the floor. "Have a good time?" her cousin inquired.

"Oh yes. You have got to go there on your next day off."

Jacks wrinkled her nose. "Nah, I'd rather take a day trip to the beach and let the sand do the natural exfoliation thing. But at least you had fun," she said.

"Jacks, I don't mean to take off like that," Anna hastened to mollify, thinking Jacks was upset about it.

"Who was the one to push you out the door? Me. That's who, so don't you dare even try to feel guilty for having a bit of fun. I don't begrudge you for the opportunities to go out. Not only do you pay me more than what's necessary, whenever I want a day you give it to me. You work harder than anyone and you take work home with you," Jacks justified. She smiled fondly at her cousin. "Besides, I like this job so much more than being a dishwasher at Char-Char's."

"Well okay…"

"You seem a little flustered chere…what's wrong?" the shorter woman asked, picking up on her mood.

"Oh, just that Stell and Linds managed to get me to admit about Don and it turns out they already suspected something was up, though," Savannah replied sullenly, going to the till and beginning her usual routine.

"I told you," ribbed Jacks kindly, coming over and hugging her cousin. "Just go with your instincts like you always have."

When they got back to their apartment complex, a familiar silver car at the curb made Savannah's heart leap to her throat. She and Jacks parked and as they walked up to the entrance, Flack exited from his car. While Jacks went on, the taller woman stopped in her tracks. He looked…amazing. He grinned at her and came forward. "Miss me?"

Savannah ignored the question in favour of commenting, "Where's that leather jacket been hiding all my life?"

"You got a thing for leather?"

"I got a thing for you in that leather jacket," said Savannah, unashamedly raking her gaze over the tall form.

"Hey, no ogling if we're still in the considering stage," joked Flack, although his stance widened and he felt a certain sense of male pride at knowing Savannah reacted like that to him.

"Your fault," bantered the brunette, sauntering up to him and grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "Although…something tells me we're about to answer that within the next few minutes if you're all dressed up like this. You look dressed to thrill."

Smiling at her, Don asked, "Well I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight…maybe catch a little dinner…a show on Broadway."

Excitement lit up her grey-green eyes. "You want to take me to see a show on Broadway?"

"Did I not speak English just then? Yes, I want to take _you_ on a date to see a Broadway show because I think that you will like it. That, and everyone should experience Broadway once in their lives," replied Don. "I got two last minute seats to Chicago…that is, only if you want," he drawled temptingly.

"Do I ever want! Just let me get changed and freshened up and we can go!" Savannah exclaimed animatedly. She then grabbed him by the hand and dragged him back to her apartment, pushing him onto the couch. "Sit and stay until I'm ready. I won't take too long!"

Flack found himself laughing at her enthusiasm. "Anna, I'm not going to leave you here if you don't rush," he called after her.

"Who cares? I've always wanted to see a Broadway show!" she cried out. After a few moments, Don could hear Savannah humming to herself as she got ready. He then did a mental pat on the back. "Good guess on my part," he said to himself, relaxing on the couch. He then looked down at his leather jacket, thinking, '_From now on, you are going to be more worn.'_ Who knew he could have elicited such a strong reaction from Savannah just by wearing it?

"All right, I'm good to go," Savannah announced, appearing from her bedroom.

Flack checked his watch. "That was just over ten minutes…nice," he remarked.

She winked. "Told you. Let's go Donnie-boy!"

As she moved out, Don stayed behind to take in the simple but classy outfit of a navy knee-length pencil skirt, striped t-shirt, and black cropped jacket teamed with sandals with a slight heel. She had added a touch of lipstick that made her lips seem even more pronounced. He followed, smirking. Not even a few minutes into this date and he knew, just had a feeling, this would work out just fine.

* * *

"That was great!"

"I heard you the first fifty times, Anna."

"_He had it coming…he had it coming…he only had himself to blame. If you had been there, if you had seen it…I betcha you would have done the same!_" Savannah sung out joyfully, riding a high of glee from her enjoyment of the show. Flack opened the door for her as they exited the theatre to the world outside. She turned to him, her mood contagious. "It was amazing and riveting and…oh Don you've made me feel so spoiled!"

"No, really?"

"Ordinarily I would slap you for that smart mouth, but I'm just so happy! That was one of the best experiences of my entire life," she rambled, sparkling in her enthusiasm.

"You make it sound like this is the best thing any guy has done for you," observed Flack.

"Well, my first boyfriend was just for prom and he ended up puking his guts out at it too because he imbibed too much. So I didn't really get far with him. And before Jake decided to go El Psycho the most exciting thing we did was a moonlit walk on the beach," replied Savannah, the reminder of her abusive ex not enough to erase her elated nature. "So, yeah, so far you're coming out on top in all the best ways."

"Well, not on top yet."

Gasping, the brunette retorted, "Now that's cheeky."

"Of course," grinned Don. He linked their arms together and walked off in a different direction to where he had parked his car. "C'mon, let's go for a wander into Times Square just because we can."

"Sounds good to me…so who or what was your favourite?"Savannah asked.

"I liked all of it, but my favourite part was probably at the end when Velma and Roxie turn their lives around," replied Flack.

"Sucker for the most virtuous side of the musical?"

"Guilty," he replied. "What about you?"

"Just in case you couldn't tell, I love it all, but in terms of favourite bits, probably the songs _Cell Block Tango_ and _When you're good to Mama_," she replied. Seeing Don raise an eyebrow with a bemused look, she sung, "_If you want my gravy…pepper my ragout. Spice it up for Mama…she'll get hot for you."_

"Can I request a private viewing of that song?" Don flirted.

"Maybe," replied Savannah with a slight blush, disarmed by his smile. She didn't think her singing voice was all that special, but Don seemed to like it.

"Not now of course," reassured the taller man, still smiling. This had been so enjoyable that he couldn't help but smile. And then, Anna singing that little line with a husky voice gave him tingles. He guided her through the busy nightlife that hung around Times Square – the tourists, those looking for clubs, or just regular New Yorkers coming to see the familiar bright lights. "You ever been here this late at night?"

"No. Just during the day and even then it's incredible. So many lights!" Savannah exclaimed.

"Yep. Keeps you awake, that's for sure," noticed Don, content to just wander around and just talk to his date.

"You know, I've lived here for almost six months and I'm still getting used to all the lights, all the people, the whole 24hour thing. Hampton is tiny in comparison. The only thing that was 24hrs was the gas stations and a few bars and hotels," Savannah said, looking all around her. "This is practically a world away."

"Sounds interesting. I've never really left New York, so…yeah."

"You're gone on vacation before, haven't you?"

"A few times," replied Don, shrugging. "Most impressive one was the time my mom and dad took us to Ireland for a few weeks when we were younger. Apart from that, I've been to LA a couple of times, went to Hawaii after the bomb injury just to recover. Nothing crazy adventurous like those CSI's that practically scour the world each time they rack up some vacation time."

"Maybe you just like New York too much," reasoned Savannah warmly.

"Maybe."

After doing a little looking around, the pair went back to Savannah's apartment. The good thing about their relationship was that they had been friends first, able to talk about most things and conversation rarely lapsed. Savannah was giggling at Don's ridiculously bad joke as they came up to her front door. Letting them in, Savannah placed her bag on the table and turned around, only to have a pair of lips fall upon hers, stealing all the breath in her body as heat rushed from her head. She responded fervently as large hands cupped her face. He tasted like the cola they had downed at Times Square.

Pulling back for air, Don smirked and stated, "I've been wanting to do that since we left here before."

"Oh really?" asked Savannah, her grin wide.

"Well, maybe since the moment today I decided to date you," he replied.

"Good," she said, grabbing the lapels of his jacket – the leather almost buttery soft in her hands – and dragged his lips down to hers, kissing him with all the pent up passion that she held within her, lost in the feelings she got from the intimate contact. Don's hands went to her waist as he kissed her back, both of them quickly finding their rhythm with each other.

When they separated, an odd look passed over Don's face. "How long have you been feeling like that for?" he asked, honestly curious.

Savannah bashfully replied, "I was attracted to you from the moment we first met, but I didn't start feeling anything more until you took me sightseeing for the first time. It's only grown since then…why?"

"I could taste it in your kiss," he replied, marvelling at how long she had kept her regard for him quiet. He hadn't noticed anything obvious.

"Hmm…maybe you would like another?" she asked slyly.

He grinned, wholeheartedly agreeing with that idea and locking lips with Anna again. He got lost in the sensations – the tingling, the heat, feeling like his head was going to explode because it felt so damn good to do this again, the sudden bolt of lust he had for Savannah. He wanted her in every way. But he would wait. He could be very patient when he wanted to. Don heard her moan and realised that they had to stop before something else happened.

"Whoa," murmured Savannah as he disengaged from her. "Damn Don…how'd you get so good at that?"

"Practice," he joked, making her giggle.

"Nice."

"Hey, I'm gonna go…before we start making out like teenagers on the couch," Don said.

"Not that I'd protest, but probably wise not to do at this point," Savannah agreed, winking at him. "I had a really great time tonight. I liked that it wasn't awkward, this thing between us."

"I believe it's called a budding relationship," replied Don with a touch of his usual sarcasm. "And I had a good time too. Musicals aren't usually my thing, but I really enjoyed this one," he said. He moved to the door and turned back to give the brunette one last, gentle kiss. "Good night Savannah."

"Night Don," she purred, letting him out.

Once he was gone, Savannah carefully locked the door and breathed out a happy sigh, feeling giddy. "Oh my God," she sighed, raising a hand to her lips and laughing. She spun around on the spot, hugging herself. "That all really happened…it happened! He's amazing, wonderful, attractive, sexy!" she giggled, bouncing happily to her room and flopping on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. "And he feels like that about me too." Savannah giggled again, her elated emotions bubbling out of her. She could taste how he felt in _his_ kiss. He wanted her.

The memory of the pressure and heat of his lips made her heart flutter. It was everything she had dreamed of and more.

And she looked forward to more of them.

* * *

**A/N: Admittedly, I'm not the best at romance, but I want to hear about how you felt about this chapter. For me, the characters really clicked. I want to make their romance as organic as possible.**

**Reviews! I love them. They feed the ever villainous muse who hates me working on anything but fan fiction. **


	22. Fun Times

**A/N: I made a deal with my muse. After this chapter, I will upload once every two days and I have certain time periods to write in. Every other time will be devoted to study. This came out quicker than usual because, again, the idea burned within me – and also partially to the great reviews I received for the last chapter. You guys know who you are and I hope you all enjoy this one just as much. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 21 – Fun Times**

* * *

_I don't wanna let go but I might  
If it's right  
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight  
Is this real? Cause this heart is just startin' to heal  
And you're so close to makin' me feel (me feel)  
Alive, alive, alive, alive_

**Natalie Bassingthwaighte - Alive**

* * *

"Mrs. Lindemyer, do you have any idea where your son is?"

"I'm sorry detective...I can't help you with that."

Flack was interviewing a woman in her sixties who had obviously gotten some work done to make herself look younger. Since they were at his desk instead of the interrogation rooms, he got too close a look at her. Her hair was almost neon yellow it had been bleached so much, and her skin looked too tight to be normal. He frowned, trying to impress upon her the importance of the matter. "Ma'am, we'd really appreciate anything of Wilson's whereabouts. He's a potential suspect in a bashing-robbery, the victim is in a coma in the hospital and his family is hysterical. Your son's car was in the vicinity at the time – we captured it on surveillance footage from the street."

Mrs. Lindemyer brought a red painted talon up to her lips, tapping it thoughtfully. "Well, he did mention going to see a show in Greenwich Village, some singer at some lounge," she purred, looking at the detective with lustful eyes.

"I'm sure you can tell me more information than that."

The plastic looking woman crossed her legs in her pink miniskirt and leaned forward, sliding a hand along Flack's knee. "Maybe I need some...incentive, Detective Flack...I swear they make the policemen these days so much...mmm...sexier than ever before."

"How's this for incentive? A night in a cell for obstruction of justice," countered Flack, repulsed by her behaviour. He stood, pushing her hand off him and crossing his arms.

He had to physically repress the urge to shudder.

Mrs. Lindemyer looked affronted. "Why darling, I was trying to suggest-"

"The only thing I want you to suggest is the location of your son. You could be made out as an accomplice if you don't give me that information," Flack bluffed, knowing that his stance and tone would do her in.

The blonde blinked up at him, as if finally realising she was in a police station and that it was serious business. "Oh. Well detective, he said he was going to see a woman called Mara sing at the Blue Monkey," she finally informed him. She then settled back, nonchalantly picking at her bright red nails. "Do try not to rough him up too much when you bring him in...he was a delicate child."

"Sure," Flack replied sarcastically.

* * *

Another shift over, Flack headed to where he swore was the only sane place in the world. Comfort Cafe.

A little smile played over his lips at the memory of his and Savannah's date just over a week ago. He hoped he could take her out again soon, possibly tonight if nothing was on the agenda for her. As he pulled into the side alley to park, Don felt his mood pick up considerably – especially after that nightmare cougar woman. Anna's presence would be more than welcome and would put his masculinity back in its place.

When he entered, a familiar redheaded boy was sitting at a table with a man and a woman as Savannah crouched in front of him, talking spiritedly to him. It was little Callum Swicky.

Callum must have heard the door open, for he looked over and spotted him. "Lookit Martha and Brendan! It's Mister Don, the man who saved me," he announced proudly, pointing over at Flack and looking back to the two strangers.

Savannah stood, her familiar affectionate smile aimed his way. "Hey stranger. Was hoping you'd be able to catch us before Callum and his new family left."

Flack nodded and came up to the table. "Nice to see he got placed so quickly," he mentioned to the brown-haired young couple at the table.

"Well we were looking for a little boy that we can devote our attention to," the woman, Martha said. "I can't have kids, and my job isn't demanding so I can take the time to look after a child. We thought foster care would work for us. When the child worker took us to meet Callum in hospital, we knew he was the right one for us. We got Savannah's number from the Child Services woman, and Callum wanted to come here."

"Well congratulations on getting a polite little boy to take care of," Flack commented sincerely, crouching down in front of Callum, who was wiggling excitedly in his seat. "How you doin' buddy?"

"I'm really good Mister Don. The doctor at the hospital fixed me up and I've got new parents. They told me that my daddy isn't going to hurt me ever again because he's going to be locked up for a long time," the boy replied pleasantly.

"Yep, that's right. Everything should get better for you now," Don said, gently ruffling his hair and smiling at his childish groan of mortification.

Brendan and Martha seemed pleased with this. "You know, we'll bring Callum back here whenever we have the time and whenever he wants to come. We are very grateful that he got to know such wonderful people before we met him," the bookish Brendan murmured softly.

Savannah smiled. "It was no problem. It was all Don, really. He's the detective. I'm just the woman he called up to watch over Callum," she said.

Martha and Brendan knew she was just being modest, but they nodded anyway. After a few more minutes of Callum and Don conversing, Brendan checked his watch. "I'm sorry, but we have to leave now or else we'll get home too late. We can come back another day to say hi to Anna and the detective, Callum."

Callum looked disappointed but he seemed to take it really well. They waved goodbye as he and his new parents left the shop. Don turned to Anna, stepping closer to her so that he could take her hand. "That was nice of them to bring him here."

"I thought so too. I was relieved when I saw that he has a new family – he seems to be taking well to them so far," Savannah said.

"Mmm...it's so nice to come here at the end of the day. Jacks went home?"

"Yep, we had a slow afternoon so I sent them all home early. I hoped you might swing by."

"Oh did ya? For any particular reason?" Don teased, placing his hands on her waist.

"Just so I could perv on you for my daily dose of Don," Savannah joked back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and met his blue eyes. "I also like not having to hide the way I feel about you now that we're in this together."

"Definitely a plus," pointed out the tall man. "So tomorrow I have a late start. I was hoping that you would have time to come out with me. Because going out all alone is kinda a downer," he said.

"And where would we be going?"

"A few bars. One for food, another for dancing – because at the ball it looked like you had fun getting down," Don observed with a little smirk. He then span Savannah around, making her squeal in delight and dipped her. "Besides," he murmured nonchalantly, "I kinda like the idea of having you in my arms after this woman I had to interview today. I felt like she was peeling my clothes off with her eyes…she looked like plastic surgery gone bad and she was older than my mother."

"Gross, but I'd be more than happy to help you get rid of the mental images that could scar you for the rest of your life," Savannah replied. She then snickered at the mental image of the woman Don described. "What'd she do?"

He grimaced in memory. "Tried to come on to me by saying that she'd give me information for an incentive. I wanted to tell her that this wasn't an episode of Cougar Town. I then threatened to lock her up for fun."

Savannah laughed freely as her imaginative mind pictured the scene. She righted herself and shook her head in amusement. "Your job is never boring. Okay, now to the details for tonight, what should I wear? We're not going to places that are fancy, are we?" she asked.

"You kiddin'? The most dressed up I get is for work and work functions. Nah, I'm just gonna be wearing a shirt and jeans. That's about the dress code," Flack replied.

"Cool, let's go!"

They drove back to Savannah's apartment to let her get changed. Flack, always prepared, had already swung past his own place for a change of clothes. When he had mentioned it, Savannah had glanced at him and deadpanned, "What makes you think I'm going to let you change in my place?"

"Because…I'm taking you out and you like me?"

"Mmmm," hummed Savannah, not saying anything.

A short silence followed before she sighed. "Well, I guess you could…"

"You are the worst when it comes to that," Don had said, disgruntled.

She had just grinned. "Just pushing my luck each time Donnie-boy."

They quickly changed into appropriate gear, Savannah wearing black skinny jeans and a tangerine hued halter top that was dressy due to the beading and ruffle detail around her bust. The colour brought out the rich darkness of her curly hair and contrasted against her grey-green eyes and pink lips. Her heels were black as well. Don had dressed in cooler colours, with blue jeans and a fitted short sleeve button up in a light grey colour that brought out his eyes. They eyed each other appreciatively before moving out.

"You know, I kind of like being driven around by you. It's like you're my personal chauffer" Savannah mused.

"Haha. Wait until the new department cars come out. The next car I get is going to be so much cooler than this thing," Flack announced.

"What is it?"

"Dodge Charger in black. They are the brand new ones being brought out soon." Flack smirked at the thought of cruising down the streets of New York in the powerful car. And if he was perfectly frank, since he found out about it he had happened to think of some less than innocent moments of him and a certain brunette in the back seat of it while the motor was running.

"Boys and their toys," Savannah needled playfully, although she seemed to consider this more. "It will definitely look tougher than this thing, as nice as it is."

"Yep…ah, here we are. Burger Bangers," he stated, able to find a miracle park almost directly in front of it. "Great bar food here, it's got more of an 'everyone can come here' vibe than most bars. They have some really great burgers. Inventive, that's for sure. They had this burger challenge a few years back where if you ate three of their double Chilimaster burgers within half an hour you didn't have to pay for them and you got a picture on their wall of fame and some key ring thing. Danno and I gave it a crack, and I couldn't even finish the second one. Danny though…he did it, and one minute before time was up too, the bottomless pit."

"Did he puke it up later?" Savannah questioned, suspecting that was what had happened.

"Nope. But he had to call in sick to the lab the next day because he ended up having a massive burger and beer hangover," replied Flack smugly.

"You didn't tell Mac did you?" gasped the brunette.

"Nope…I didn't have to tell him, because Mac realised what happened the next time he visited here and saw the photo of Danno on the wall, which happened a few nights later."

"Oh poor Danny," chuckled Savannah. "I bet he got a bit of a tongue lashing for that one."

"He did. I don't think he was in Mac's good graces for a few days," explained Don, remembering the incident clearly.

They made their way into Burger Bangers, securing a table near the back. The place was pumping with families, couples, and groups of friends all out for a night out. A waitress came up to them and took their orders, leaving them with the bar's catchphrase: "We'll bang those burgers out good!"

Snickering, Savannah asked, "Do they always do that?"

"Yep, it's a tradition. And when customers leave, if you really liked the meal then you call out, 'I'll bang those burgers any day,'" he replied. He then shrugged. "You catch on quickly. I like to come here once a month or two. Lately, I haven't been because there's this woman I know at the Comfort Cafe who does some pretty awesome burgers herself."

The brunette just looked innocent. "I never told you that you had to be strictly loyal to my food."

"Just to you, right?"

"Right."

"So it's basically the same thing," Don pointed out. He then reached across and fingered a bouncy curl. "Your hair looks great tonight," he complimented warmly.

"Thanks. For some reason its curling up more lately...might be the humidity of summer we're in. You're not looking too shabby yourself..._detective,"_ she intentionally purred the last word coyly. She then held in her smile as Flack looked a little surprised by her forwardness.

"Nice."

"I thought so too," Savannah replied, taking a sip of her drink, all too aware that Don's eyes fell on her lips curving around the straw.

Their burgers came in the ensuing silence, and the pair eagerly ate. Savannah was surprised at how good they were. Wiping away a smear of mustard from the corner of her mouth, she nodded and murmured, "Wow. You seem to know all the awesome places to eat."

"Duh, a guy's gotta eat," Don replied, winking at her.

"It's certainly a fun challenge for me to keep thinking up things to satisfy those ever ravenous tastebuds of yours. By bringing me here, I've got the creative juices flowing now," Savannah explained, and then she abandoned eating, much to Don's puzzlement, diving into her bag and pulling out a small notepad and pen. She opened up to a fresh page and began scribbling furiously. As he ate, Don looked on in bewilderment. Only Savannah. When she was done, he asked, "Inspiration?"

"Yep, hit hard and fast. It just grips me," admitted Savannah.

"I can't blame you, I know what you mean." And Flack did. He knew the drive to do something, whether it be to track down a suspect or in playing a game of b-ball, his motivation could come on strong.

They finished and hung around a bit to allow themselves some time to digest the big burgers. They debated about who was going to pay. Flack was adamant that he would pay because he invited her out and this _was_ a date he was taking her on. Savannah argued that he must have spent a fortune on the 'Chicago' tickets and dinner on their last date and that it would only be fair if she paid for their dinner. It got to the point where the people at the next table over were staring over at them in disbelief.

Fed up with Don's insistence, Savannah stood and came around to his side of the table, hands on hips. "I am going to pay and that's final," she stated, raising an eyebrow, daring him to challenge her.

"You'll have to disable me somehow."

He should have known not to throw a challenge down at the brunette. She got a glimmer of wickedness in her eyes before she roughly grabbed Flack's hair, dragging his head back and kissing him deeply on the mouth. He was shocked at her boldness, but groaned into the kiss as their tongues briefly tangled.

And then she was gone.

Flack was still in his seat, dazed by the passion and force in Savannah's kiss before he realised that she had strutted over to the front counter to pay.

She had distracted him!

He found himself chuckling at Anna's audacity. She certainly had a way of cutting her own path and react unpredictably to things. He got up and approached her as she handed over money to pay for their burgers. "You had to do that didn't you?" Don asked.

"Yes."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood. I don't usually take well to people manhandling me like that," Don said.

"Considering I'm your date, I thought that method of 'manhandling' as you call it would serve my purposes, you stubborn man," Savannah replied, blasé to Flack's frustrated amusement. "Although, if anyone else tries to do that to you, they better be prepared for me to knock their block off."

The detective chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

"Now who's manhandling?"

"Turnabout is fair play," Don countered. He then placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her out. Just before they got outside, Savannah turned her head, eyes shining with enthusiasm, and called out, "I'll bang those burgers any day!"

Flack laughed, "I can't believe you actually did that!"

"What? It was a damn good burger, although I think I liked the dessert better," she winked as she went over to the passenger side door of the car.

"Dessert?" Don asked, confused. Realisation dawned on him when she tapped her lips. "Oh..._that_ dessert."

"Yeah, I kinda like that dessert," Savannah flirted, leaning against the car. "So where to next?"

"Melvoy's. They got good music and atmosphere, and it's only about ten minutes from here," replied the blue eyed man, sliding into the car and starting it up. He still couldn't believe that Anna had kissed him to distract him from paying. "Why were you so insistent on paying?"

"I refuse to let you pay for everything. I'm not the kind of girl to expect that the guy will pay for everything. I don't rely on you for that reason, and I don't want to be with you for that reason. I will still offer to pay for everything, so you better get used to these debates after each time you take me out – unless it's occasions where you've already bought the tickets like when you took me out to Chicago," explained the brunette bluntly, earnestly.

"Fair enough. That's showing integrity," Don mused.

"Why, do most of the women you used to date expect you to pay for every little thing?"

"Not Jess. She wasn't as forceful as you, but we would split often. But before that? About 70% of 'em never even offered to pay no matter where we went," he said.

"I'm glad you have better taste in women now," Savannah remarked.

"You sayin' that my taste used to be crap?"

"Yes, Don," she replied wittily.

He frowned before he admitted, "Well, you're right. Before Jess I had maybe two semi-meaningful relationships. The rest were really just for fun. I was the worst in my early twenties. Needing stress relief after the stressful life of a rookie cop, able to break away from parental control – yeah, even I know that wasn't exactly a thing to be proud of _now, _but at the time I thought I was living the life."

"It's a part of learning. At least you aren't like that now," Savannah commented. She reached over to her date's hand on the steering wheel and stroked over the knuckles fondly.

"Mmm...I've met a few people older than me still living that life. I always wonder why. It can be so empty sometimes."

"Well this won't be. I'm excited to have a good time," Savannah said cheerily, attempting to lift the mood.

It worked.

"Me too," smiled Don.

They weren't as lucky with the parking space this time, having to park a block away and walk into Melvoy's. They could hear the music from two storefronts down, heavy and fast-paced. Savannah bounced on the balls of her feet as they walked in. "Next time I'll be designated driver, but tonight Pina Colada is on the cards as well as a cider."

"I'm havin' a beer but that's it, so go for it," Don offered as they walked towards the bar. They ordered their drinks, Savannah sculling her cider. Flack raised his eyebrows. "Trying to get drunk fast?"

"No, not drunk...just lower my inhibitions just a tiny bit so I can dance without being too self conscious," replied the curly haired woman, shrugging.

Flack rolled his eyes. "You have nothing to be self-conscious about. I think you're stunning."

"Remember what I told you? Sometimes I just can't help it," reminded Savannah gently. She then started bopping her head to the beat. "You were so right. Good music. I think this is 'Walk this Way' by Aerosmith. Good song."

"Yeah, most nights they play rock with a few pop songs every now and then. Much better than some of that techno crap I hear in clubs nowadays."

"_This_ is the good stuff," agreed Savannah.

A few songs later, they hadn't moved from the bar, happy to chat, until 'Nothing but a Good Time' by Poison came on. A look of exhilaration passed over Savannah's face. Abruptly, she stood and said, "I'm going to go and dance. You can join me if you like, no pressure." Before Don could reply, she went onto the dance floor on the other side of the bar. He had a clear line of sight to her, and he grinned as he saw her position herself nearest to the speakers, nodding her head to the beat. As the guitar rose in volume, Anna's hips began to sway and she put her hands above her head, moving in time to the beat. Even from over at the bar, Don could see her mouthing the words.

"She's a nut," he muttered to himself.

He leaned back, admiring the absolute look of bliss on the brunette's face as she let the music sweep her up. Flack noticed that Savannah didn't just dance to the music, she felt it.

He let her dance by herself for a few more songs, and was considering joining her when 'Rock Lobster' by the B-52's finished. He was about to go when he noticed a chestnut haired young woman sidling along the bar to him. Her blue eyes flashed at him. "Hey, what's a handsome guy like you doing here all by yourself?" she purred.

Flack sighed, thinking, '_Twice_ in one day? You have got to be kiddin' me.'

"I'm not," he replied, shrugging.

"Oh, you have some friends around?" the young woman inquired blithely. She would have been somewhat attractive to Flack when he was much younger and less experienced. Her dress was skin tight and came maybe two inches below her ass, not leaving much to imagination. She was skinny in a way it showed it wasn't healthy, and it was obvious she had way too much make up on.

Flack had to resist the urge to ask for her ID and show her his badge.

"Well, actually I-"

"Hey sugar, time's up for alone time, you're gonna dance with me." Savannah strode back up to the bar, grabbing Don's hand and dragging him back with her, leaving a bewildered and pouting girl behind. Flack almost stumbled with the speed the brunette went through the crowd on the floor until they got back to her little dance spot.

"You are having a nasty habit of being hasty tonight," admonished Don lightly.

"She looked like she wanted to claw into you," defended Savannah. "Besides, you had that look of 'this person must have eaten a bowl of stupid this morning, I have to get out of here.' Don't laugh, it's true, you have a special look."

'Shakin' All Over' by Normie Rowe came on then, and Don watched as Savannah began to sway, looking at him through lowered lashes. She swivelled her hips, shaking her shoulders. He was mesmerised by her fluid movements. He unknowingly nodded his head to the rhythm. Savannah placed her hands on his shoulders and murmured in his ear, "I won't laugh if you happen to look dorky while you are dancing – that is, if that's the reason why you're not really moving."

Bashfully, Flack replied, "You hit the nail on the head again Cormier."

"Dance…let go, I know I am," she purred back, daring to trail her lips along the curve of his jaw.

Reluctantly, Don let his body move from side to side, and as 'Ballroom Blitz' by The Sweet played, he began to twirl Savannah like he had at the ball, making her fall into his arms whenever he reeled her back in a little too enthusiastically. Savannah looked to be having the time of her life. The smile never disappeared from her lips and she looked up at him adoringly. Eventually, Don felt himself loosening up, feeling free enough to make some movements with his arms, sliding from side to side.

Song after song played, and the couple acted like they were in their own little world of rock and roll as the time passed. They danced closer and closer until Don was nearly grinding up on Savannah, her hand, soft and as teasing as a whisper of wind on his neck while the other moved around in time to the beat, both of his hands planted firmly on her waist. Teasingly, Savannah had said, "Don Flack…an officer and a gentleman." This was because he was very careful not to touch her in a more intimate way in respect of her.

"You smile more than anyone I've ever seen," Don murmured to her during a softer rock song where they simply swayed on the spot.

"Because in this moment, I have so much to be happy about. Besides, it can be harder to be happy at times, and you know how I like to challenge myself," justified the brunette. "Although my cheeks will probably hurt in the morning."

"I like seeing you happy."

"Ditto."

The rock ballad faded away, only to be replaced by, as fortune would have it, 'Cherry Pie' by Warrant and it blasted into the air. Savannah and Don looked at each other in astonishment before they both cheered, "Oooohh!" in unison. Savannah giggled and cried over the noise of the rock, "Sing it with me! C'mon, let's do it, just for fun."

"No, I've done it drunk," protested Flack laughingly, blue eyes gleaming with enjoyment of the moment.

"Now do it sober."

They looked at each other before singing out loudly together, "_Swingin' on the front porch, swingin' on the lawn, swingin' where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home. Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right. If I think about baseball I'll swing all night yeah!" _

"_Swingin' in the living room, swingin' in the kitchen. Most folks don't 'cause they're too busy bitchin', swingin' in there 'cause she wanted me to feed her, so I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater_."

"Your solo Don!" Savannah proclaimed. Don took the challenge.

"_I scream you scream, we all scream for her. Don't even try 'cause you can't ignore her_."

The couple danced heavily to the strong guitar riff as they sung out the chorus at the top of their lungs, mingling with other voices in the bar.

_"She's my cherry pie  
Cool drink of water  
Such a sweet surprise  
Tastes so good  
Make a grown man cry  
Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah  
She's my cherry pie  
Put a smile on your face  
Ten miles wide  
Looks so good  
Bring a tear to your eye  
Sweet cherry pie!"_

They dissolved into harmonious laughter, Savannah clinging to Don as she broke down in her mirth. When she looked up, Don's eyes had darkened slightly and he whispered, "Do you taste of cherry pie?" he asked rhetorically, before he dipped her and laid a long, smouldering kiss on her lips. The vibration of the speakers plus her natural attraction to Don made Savannah moan into it, reciprocating with all of her soul. His voice when he had sung had made every nerve stand on end.

When they righted themselves, the blue eyed man grinned wolfishly. "Close enough," he concluded.

"You still being a gentleman, detective?" she asked coquettishly.

"Not if you don't want me to," he flirted.

"Tempting, but I rather like slow and steady," Savannah confessed, She then began to sway to the beat again. "Another few songs? Please?"

"As long as you don't make me sing them."

"Deal."

* * *

**A/N: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS CHAPTER!**

**Just so you know. I basically let my imagination run freakin wild. :D Then again, that triple shot latte might have had something to do with it… And let me know if there are any spelling mistakes, I didn't check as well as I should have. Enjoy my lovelies!**


	23. Bump in the Road

**A/N: Thank you to Smuffly, no accounter, and Leslie Emm. I kept looking over your reviews when I was a bit bummed that a chapter that I had so enjoyed writing didn't get the response expected. Regardless, here is the next chapter, and I hope that it garners some response. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 22 – Bump in the Road**

* * *

_Cos we're gonna make our mistakes  
Find out how much a heart can take  
But I know that you got my back  
And baby I got yours_

**Guy Sebastian ft. Jordan Sparks – Art of Love**

* * *

Three hot summer months passed by.

Don and Savannah continued to date over the course of the months, always trying to make time for each other. They committed one night per week for a dedicated date night just in case their work schedules conflicted too much. They found themselves becoming more and more attracted to each other. Don sought her out after particularly hard cases and she took solace in knowing that whenever she had a nightmare about James and Amanda that she could call him – that for once there would be a soothing voice in the night. They nurtured each other's souls.

Their outings were mostly simple but enjoyable affairs.

They had gone back to Burger Bangers and Melvoy's a few times, and on a day too hot to be working, they got off shift at their respective jobs and went to the nearest beach. Flack had been delighted to see Savannah in a one-piece green bathing suit frolicking in the waves and running up and down the beach, while she in turn admired her first sight of his chest. They had played in the waves, soaking up the late afternoon sun before retiring to Don's apartment, eating Chinese takeout and watching a Yankees game. Flack had to explain the rules to Savannah as she really wasn't a lover of sports, but she listened raptly to his descriptions regardless.

On the fourth of July, they had gone as a couple to Sheldon's party on his rooftop. The CSI team had been beyond overjoyed to see the two explore a deeper relationship. Savannah was already widely accepted and it felt like things were beginning to come full circle.

Other dates had only cemented their status as a couple, both referring to the other as boyfriend and girlfriend in conversations with others.

A picnic in Central Park where they had been happy to watch the clouds and take a break from hectic life.

Making dinner for each other at their apartments or having take out on the days they were too tired.

Going to see a basketball game live in the arena where the Knicks versed the Boston Celtics, which was easier for the cafe owner to understand than baseball, but she was bemused by Flack's emotional involvement in the game. Adam, Danny and Lindsay (and Lucy) had joined them for the game and for dinner afterwards.

Savannah taking her love back up to the rooftop garden to show him how to plant chives. Although Don doubted he could ever get into gardening, he could appreciate what she used in her dishes just a little more because it was tended by her hands.

One thing that had been established was that they would go at a pace that suited Savannah.

The pair had been at Don's fifth floor apartment, talking about a movie they had just seen with Stella and Mac, when they had the mother of all make-out sessions. They didn't know how it had started, but soon Don had pushed Anna down onto his couch, settling in between her jean-clad thighs while they kissed, moaning softly into each other's mouths. There was no semblance of control – hands groping at each other's hair, neck, waists. It was when the blue eyed man's hand had slowly crept up from its more innocent position on the brunette's hip to caress the curve of her breast that they had realised how fast and far their passion had taken them.

"Shit," Don swore, levering off Savannah.

"Yeah," she whispered, sitting up and hesitantly running her hand through her unruly curls, made even more so by the way her boyfriend had run his hands through them. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Why do you have to be so attractive?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Haha," Savannah muttered, She then looked up at him and took his hand. "You know that I want you…but I don't think we're ready for that yet. Heck, I _know_ I'm not ready for that step."

Flack wrapped her in a loose embrace, kissing her forehead. "Sure…whenever you're ready." A thought occurred to him and etched his face with lines of concern. "Is it because of your self confidence with your body?" he asked softly.

"It's a part of it," she admitted.

Don, frowning, carefully tilted her face up so that their faces were closer and she could see the truth in his expression. "Anna, you are a very, very beautiful woman. When you dance when we go out it's freakin' sexy and turns me on like you wouldn't believe – you might think that your hips are too wide in comparison to society's standards, but you shouldn't give a shit about that. I like your curves…they'll give me something to anchor onto if you get my drift."

Savannah raised a critical eyebrow, making Don roll his eyes and say, "Would a certain part of me be pressing into you earlier if I didn't think you were gorgeous?"

"Perhaps."

"The correct answer to that question is actually no, but because I like you there's no punishment for failing the answer," retorted the detective with his usual bite of sarcasm. He softened as Savannah still looked unconvinced. "There is something to me that is more appealing than your body, and that's your heart, Anna. I know that you care and love so deeply, and I wanna get sucked into that. And I'm telling you this straight because I don't usually say this kinda stuff – you're one of the rare few I trust with my emotions," Don explained.

"And I appreciate that, I do," Savannah said intensely. "I'm the same. I don't even want to tell Mac about Amanda and James…you're enough."

Don made a noise of agreement and leant down to quickly peck her lips. He could smell chocolate from when she had made chocolate cupcakes earlier that day – he had scarfed one at the mid-shift break. "I'm going to let you call the shots on the first time whenever you want to be together. But after that, it's equal opportunity…that sound fair to you?"

"Yes."

They had left it at that and gone about their daily routines of talking and flirting.

Danny had taken to teasing the couple whenever they held each other's eyes too long when they were around him, playfully telling them to 'stop having eye sex' and making mock kissy faces. He had stopped after Savannah had whipped him across the back of the head with an oven mitt because he had been teasing the two of them about looking a little too pleased and making a few more sexualised comments.

Needless to say, the cafe owner set him straight while Flack looked on smugly.

Once the record had been set straight to the Italian that they hadn't even gotten close to a bed, he had ceased his teasing. Well, most of it.

Whenever they saw the budding couple, Mac and Stella would find smiles reaching their faces at Don and Anna's interactions. They were natural together and played well off each other. Both detectives couldn't help but be a little self-satisfied themselves that they had a hand in setting the two up.

Savannah did happen to frustrate her suitor when she sometimes forgot she had a date. There had been a few occasions – one had been because she had to do some catering for the FDNY and had stayed late at the cafe to make the sandwiches and schnitzels. Flack hadn't been too impressed with that. The second one he forgave more readily. They were meant to go out to dinner when he found out that Anna had signed herself up to babysit Lucy while Danny and Lindsay had some alone time. Apparently, Lindsay had reached the end of a frayed rope and begged her friend to take her kid just so she could get the connection she needed with Danny for a night. Instead of abandoning the idea of an evening with his girlfriend, he joined in on the babysitting and they ended up having a great time with Lucy.

It was Sunday morning and Savannah had a half day. On Sundays they closed at 2pm so they could feel refreshed for the Monday and also to just focus on breakfast and lunch. In the dying dregs of summer, it was still hot in the city, ensuring that Savannah was busy with icy cold fresh squeezed juices and fruit salads.

Flack walked in, no jacket in deference to the heat and a black tie loosened over his white button down that clung to him like a second skin thanks to the humidity. His gun was proudly holstered on his hip – he looked practically edible. It was moments like that when Anna wished she was in a movie and could play it in slow motion as he strode in with his usual confident gait.

She finished the watermelon pop blocks she was working on and stuck them in the freezer behind the counter and came around.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" Flack said with a vaguely smug look. His eyes roved her form, approving of her choice in clothing.

Denim shorts that went to mid thigh and a black tank top with her converse sneakers. Savannah wiped a bead of sweat from her neck and replied, "Right now, me. The air con's running but it ain't doing me any good. The kitchen's so hot because of the jambalaya I'm making and because the extraction fan isn't spinning as fast as it should. I could use a break. Hungry?"

"Yep, breakkie sounds good. I saved myself for you Anna," Don replied, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh haha. I'll join you, I need it before I feel like a fried egg," she mentioned, waving him over to the table he usually sat.

Flack smiled as he watched the object of his deepest affection scurry around trying to clear a space in the workload so she could spare some time with him. It made him grateful for her regard. He chuckled as he noticed her bun bobbing above her head. It looked like a hasty hairstyle but something about it was very sensually appealing – just to rip the tie off and watch the dark strands tumble along her neck and frame Savannah's face.

Yeah, he found moments like that surfacing more and more in his thoughts.

He was pulled back into reality when Savannah slid into the seat opposite him, relaxing as she placed their plates in front of them. She had made breakfast jambalaya with eggs and mushrooms for herself and eggs, bacon, and sausage for her partner.

"Oooh yeah," hummed Flack in appreciation. He dug in as Savannah set a glass of ice on the table and merely sighed, tipping her head back tiredly. Her strength was zapped by the calidity in the air. Flack noticed that she hadn't touched her food. "Anna, I feel kind of bad putting on a little show of eating here," he prodded.

"I will eat…I'm just tired." She then reached forward and grabbed a cube of ice, bringing it to her neck, rubbing it over her clammy skin. The cube melted against her skin, leaving swirls of water in its wake. Her sigh turned to a content hum as the icy frozen water cooled her down.

Don found himself watching the movement of those fingers sliding the cube along the creamy skin of her neck, tracing swirling, tantalising patterns. The paths were burned into his mind. For a moment, his focus slipped and he could almost imagine those wet streaks weren't caused by ice, but by his mouth.

"-and are you listening? Hello? In la-la land there Don?"

"Huh?"

"I just said, look, I'm eating, happy?" Savannah repeated, looking utterly confused and concerned. "Is the heat getting to you too? I swear you just zoned out completely it was so weird."

"Uh…" Flack scrambled for an explanation before the tips of his ears burned crimson and betrayed his embarrassment at being caught daydreaming about less innocent things. "I was just thinking of this guy we're tracking today. He's a crazy escaped from the loony bin. He's apparently schizophrenic and he was fine at Bellevue, but he got out and suddenly, he felt the world was against him and he managed to get a gun and is now running around. NYPD is out looking for him and I'm on the list," he informed her, relieved that a reason for his distraction was available.

Concern was still etched on the brunette's face. "Oh. Okay, well be careful then," she murmured. A fresh wave of customers entered the cafe then, and seeing that her staff were already tied up in other jobs, Savannah knew that the reprieve was over. "I'll see you when you get off shift then?" she asked hopefully.

"Should be about six I clock off," replied Flack, nodding. He then tilted his head up as Savannah bent to quickly kiss him and rush off to the counter to serve.

* * *

Savannah paced her apartment later that night. It was 8.20pm and Don hadn't called. He hadn't shown up at the cafe to drive her home like he usually did when they were going to spend some time together at night. She had taken the subway home with nary a text or call flashing on her cell to ease the anxiety she felt for him. Flack was usually good with the time thing and he would habitually send her a text if he had to work overtime on a case. Anna worried that some mishap had befallen him when chasing the crazy person he had told her about.

Usually, she wouldn't have been so nervous, but last night she had nightmares. Guilty enough about all the times she had called Don previously when she dreamed, she had made herself go back to sleep, trying to think positive thoughts. It only compounded the current situation.

In a bid to calm herself, she had even cooked dinner just in case and done all her housework to divert from the obvious absence of a certain tall, blue eyed Irish detective. Her apartment was sparkling clean in less than an hour thanks to the nervous energy.

With a sigh of aggravation, Savannah switched on her TV set, flicking through the channels and trying to escape from the mind numbing reality shows like Jersey Shore and The Real Housewives of some place or other. She stopped for too long on a news channel and a new headline flashed. '_Bellevue escapee caught – detective suffers injury.'_

"Oh God," breathed Savannah, her eyes widening as she saw the words.

It felt like her world imploded on some downward spiral. Could it be Don? She hoped to all that was holy that it wasn't, but a little niggling feeling refused to let her rationalise. She felt hot bile rise in her throat. _Please, not Don_.

Savannah barely heard the news report over the noise of her thudding heart.

_Please, not Don_.

She forced herself to breathe. Surely, she had been through enough. And things were going so great between them too!

_Please…not him, don't hurt him anymore._

A knock at the door made her start and emit a cry of surprise.

"Anna?"

Flooding relief overtook her and she leaped up and ran to the door, throwing it open. "Oh thank God you're okay!" she cried, throwing her arms around Flack and gripping him tightly, burying her head in his neck. Don, surprised, stumbled back under the onslaught and grunted from the impact.

"A little _less_ enthusiasm would be nice…I think you cracked a rib," he joked.

Savannah dragged him inside, but bristled at the comment, her emotions turning. "Why the hell didn't you call me or text me?" she demanded. "I've been worried sick!"

Flack shrugged. "Just busy. Detective Graham got shot, but it was just in the arm. He'll make a full recovery and still be able to use it," he explained. "We had to go through all of this formality for this escaped schizo."

"A text would have been nice," she grumbled petulantly.

The detective was tired and exhausted from being stung on edge while chasing the guy with the gun through the grid of New York streets in high humidity and wasn't in the mood for melodrama. "Yeah, well, I forgot. A holiday would be nice too, but I don't see that happening anytime soon."

Savannah persisted, "You know, just a quick 'A-ok' would have been nice. I saw that stupid news report and thought you were hurt."

Flack crossed his arms, eyebrows snapping together in his irritation. "I didn't text. Let us just move on. Besides, you know what you signed up for when you started going out with me. I'm a cop. Cops have dangerous lives and schedules aren't exactly followed," he pointed out.

"You think I don't know that? That I thought being with you would be this perfect little fairytale where every moment we spend together is some kind of magical thing?" Savannah accused, her natural stubbornness setting in. She mimicked his pose, crossing her arms across her chest, blazing eyes meeting the other's. "My dad was a cop too Don. I know the realities."

"Are you so sure? Look what happened to him!" Flack's voice rose in his temper. "Every day I go out there, every chance of it being the last shift I ever have. It's my job. I protect people by putting _my_ life on the line. Can you understand that?" he argued.

"If you get your head out of your ass for one minute you'll see that I _do_ understand that," growled Savannah, her ire peaking when he managed to push all her buttons in his statements. She stepped towards him and poked a finger into his chest. "I'm not trying to be a clingy girlfriend. I'm _trying_ to show that yes, there is someone outside of work that cares for you and wants this to be a two way lane of communication."

"I got bigger things to worry about when I'm on the job. I forgot, Anna! It was one little mistake!"

"And what about the one little mistake where someone shoots you in the head?" she argued back.

A parcel of silence passed after that. They both sobered then, thinking about that grim prospect.

"I promise to always be careful. I can't control what the other fuckheads do," Don said trying to keep his voice even.

"I know, I know…just…" Savannah sighed, unable to stay truly angry about this for long. "Try and text me…even if it's just a smiley face to let me know you're still among the living when you've told me you're going after someone dangerous," she said empathically. She raked a hand through her hair before moving to Don and embracing him again, gentler, apologetically.

"I'm sorry for mimicking a witch. I just care about you," she murmured.

"It's okay," he replied, returning her squeeze and muttering, "I'm sorry too. We really shouldn't be angry at each other."

"You were being a bit of a bonehead, but that's understandable."

"And you practically attacked me with a killer hug, but it's okay…I won't press charges," Don replied with his usual humour.

Savannah smiled softly, glad that her irritation left easily. "Good. We'll both try to be more understanding of each other's roles, huh?"

"Yep," he replied.

The pair ended up having the dinner cold, but that was okay. They just basked in the companionship of the other silently, absorbing that they had just resolved their first argument as a couple. After, Flack made to leave but a hesitant hand gripping his own made him pause and he slowly looked up into conflicted grey-green eyes. He waited, knowing that Savannah would do what she needed to do in her own time.

Biting her lip in apprehension, Savannah shyly said, "I would really like for you to stay here tonight…whether it be on the couch, the bed in the spare room or in my bed. I want you here just to cement it in my mind."

Flack considered it. He _could_ if he really wanted to because it wasn't an inconvenience. Besides, he also felt that need to be around someone else tonight. Because some days you just got so bone weary that you needed a kindred soul to share it. Savannah was it. "Yeah, sure," he agreed. "But because I don't trust myself, I think I'll take the couch. I'll visit your bed only when you're ready, remember?"

"I do." Feeling like everything was resolved between them, Anna cleared up after them and helped her partner get the couch set up for the night. They bade goodnight with a long, slow kiss filled with apology and passion.

They were both reluctant to leave each other, but it was for the best. To not separate would be pushing things.

* * *

**A/N: They will have arguments forevermore because they are both stubborn. This is a slower chapter than lately because of the fact that I think it was about due and also because next chapters are going to be full on. If anyone wants to know what Don looked like when he entered the cafe, think of the outfit he wore in episode 2.01 'Summer in the City' – that's what I pictured. I also used the chapter to show the transition of time. So Don and Anna have been dating for about three months (add a week) and that's on top of knowing each other since January. I hope you enjoyed this progression of their relationship.**


	24. Confidence

**A/N: Because of the lovely reviews (WE CRACKED 100!) I got for the last chapter I decided to update half a day early. Thank you to Kalya, Annabella Colt, no accounter, Smuffly, and Leslie Emm. As ever, you are all fantastic. **

**Writing this chapter made me blush a bit. Why? Read on…but make sure you read the warnings ;D**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, descriptions of nakedness and implied sex. Not explicit.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 23 – Confidence**

* * *

_God almighty! Look at that body,  
Flickers like a sticker on a new Ferrari,  
She's a scene from a Baywatch rerun,  
Hotter than a barrel on a squeezed machine gun _

**Nickelback – Gotta Get Me Some**

* * *

**Savannah POV**

I'm in the garden, but I didn't lock the roof door when I came up. It's almost as if I'm inviting someone up here. And what do you know? I can hear the shuffling steps of Aunt Emilie as she creeps into my hideaway, her warm smile as always tipping the corners of her mouth. "You broadcast your emotions as clearly as the ferry foghorn toots it," she rasped gently. Her weathered hands pat my hair and I can practically hear her knees creak as she kneels down in front of me.

"And what am I trying to say?"

"You're conflicted," she tells me, as if this is nothing new. She checks on her roses while I wait for her to expand on what she is saying. Aunt Emilie is nothing if not observant. She would have been a great CSI.

"You are worried about getting too attached to that handsome young man of yours, that Donald. You fear that if you come on to him, that he will break your heart if he finds you lacking. Am I correct?" she asks softly.

Bullseye.

Like me, Aunt Emilie is sometimes a little too perceptive for her own good. I shoulda known the day that Don was first introduced to Aunt Emilie…the day after he stayed over after our little argument. That was almost two weeks ago. Sighing and bringing my knees up so I can rest my head on them, I reply, "Yep, that's about the shape of it."

"Where is your gusto, ma chere?" Emilie croons, her grey eyes expressive and curious on mine. "You are usually so confident about reaching for the stars, for what you want…what is holding you back?"

"Aside from the fact I haven't been intimate with a man for over three years?" I replied sarcastically.

Aunt Emilie gives me a beady eye and I relent. She's a bit like my priest, my Aunt, and is the closest thing I have to a mother after my own mama died. "I love him," I admit softly. "And I don't want to screw this up so much because I think he's the one, Auntie. I think Don is it for me, that I'll never find another, better man because he's the one I want to be with."

"Then jump, what's the problem? You young ones are so melodramatic," Emilie says to me bluntly, making me want to facepalm.

"Auntie, do you think that three and a half months of official dating is enough time?" I ask, exasperated. I don't really like talking about things like this.

"Chere, there are people out there that have a roll in the hay with total strangers within hours of meeting. I don't think there is any set time, just go with your instincts. Stop ignoring them like I know you have," she admonishes me, her tanned face wrinkling up as she makes her point while I watch in fascination as she comes alive. "Go with your instincts. Play to your strengths, and that's how you'll nab your man. And don't fear rejection or heartbreak. If we all feared it and followed our fear, the Earth wouldn't be populated as much as it is."

See, sometimes even _I_ need a good kick of motivation, and Aunt Emilie is the one to do it. My imagination suddenly runs wild, an idea popping into my head. I grin, mischievous.

"Ah, now that's my girl," Emilie hums, approving. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it Anna, that boy is head over heels for you, he just don't know how much yet."

I blush a little at that. I don't reply, knowing if I try to play it off nonchalantly that she'll get fired up again. Instead I hug her and whisper, "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck if you got guts and brains, chere, and you've got it in spades, you and Jacks both," Aunt Emilie replies, patting my back. "Allow your emotions to tumble free. Allow yourself a chance with a man. Allow your love for him to shine."

"I will," I promise.

A plan is cooking up in my head, and I'm suddenly taken by the desire to put things into place.

* * *

I'm just setting up the cafe the next day when Don walks in, full of swagger. Part of me wants to laugh, knowing it's just for show, but there's another part that likes it. It's kinda sexy. He comes to me with a grin, grasping my shoulders and giving me a quick kiss. "Good morning," he murmurs in a voice that is low, all too knowing of the effect it has on me.

"It is now," I reply cheerily.

Seeing Don always brightens up my day.

"I'd love to stay, but we've got dead bodies and accidents poppin' up everywhere today. Just thought I'd let you know," he informs me. "But I did bring you a little present because of the fact you got your gun licensing the other day."

And then he pulls a small wrapped box from a satchel behind his back and smirks. "Your gun. Just don't open it here, even if you are now licensed with it," he advises. "It's a NAA Guardian .32, so it's small and you can carry it around in your bag. I even bought you a few bullets," he adds, and I can tell he's excited from the enthusiasm in his voice, and I'm touched that he values my protection so highly. I take it and give him another quick smooch, holding it just a little longer to feel the warmth of his skin. Chuckling, I place the box behind the counter. "That's real romantic, Don," I tease.

"For me it is," he banters back.

Time to execute the idea that's been running through my head all night, keeping me awake with hot flushes. "Speaking of romance, can I borrow the key to your apartment?" I ask as casually as possible.

"Why? Planning on dyeing everything I have pink or purple?"

"Don't give me ideas, sugar…it's very tempting," I draw out, winking, snickering at the sudden 'oh shit' look that crosses his face. "But no…uh, I was actually thinking I could go there after shift and start some dinner for us instead of you always having to pick me up or come over to my place. I'm thinking about steak."

Bingo. I mention one of his favourite foods (and trust me, there are so many), and he's hooked. I let his eyes consume me as he hands over the keys I need.

"Sounds like a great idea, because I have a feeling that today is going to be a crazy one," Don agrees easily. He tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. "Promise me I won't come home to find you girlyed up the place."

"Would I do that to you?" I ask innocently.

"If I was an asshole to you I could see that happening."

With a sly smile, I stand in front of him and trace a finger over his lips mischievously. "Good thing you're not an asshole to me anymore then. Because it's not going to happen. Besides, I would feel so guilty I did it that I'd do it and then reverse it back to normal," I let him know frankly.

Don chuckles, the sound giving me a thrill and I realise I want him _now_.

But I must wait.

He leaves with a smile, promising that he'd call if he was going to be late.

He just gave me the tools I need to carry out my plan of seduction. I don't know if it's going to be too tacky or too boring, but I want to try it anyway. I know that if I don't do it while the idea is burning a fierce ember into my brain, then I won't be as enthusiastic another time. The whole day at work, I find myself easily distracted. Now that my mind is going on tonight, I can't help but think of Don. He occupies my every thought and curiosity about what he's like in bed burns through me.

Oh, I've thought about it before - the late night sessions with my hand when I'm super lonely are evidence of that.

But never has the urge to jump him filled me so intensely. It's a burn in me that hums throughout the day, getting stronger until I'm practically aflame with desire for him. For some reason, all I want to make all day is chocolate. Chocolate cake, chocolate dipped strawberries, chocolate mousse, banana splits with chocolate ice-cream. I am ravenous and eat half a bowl of chocolate mousse on my own. Jokingly, Jacks asked me if Aunt Flo was visiting and I was having chocolate cravings because of it. I didn't answer. I don't exactly want to let my cousin know that I was thinking of sex practically all day which was just the opposite. As it nears the end of the working day, I urge Jacks and the girls to clean up faster so I can actually get out of here on time for once – all the while the mental images of Don play like a never ending slideshow of sexiness through my brain. His blue eyes, how they change colour to deepen when we kiss, his dark hair, his tall, masculine, muscled body firm against mine when we dance, that alluring little smirk that is either cynical or cheeky, the adorable frown lines that crease his forehead, his deep, smooth voice. And that's just what is physically appealing to me.

I connect to Don's spirit. There's never a moment where our relationship is stilted – even the silences are companionable ones. I love his dedication, his protectiveness, and his deep seated need for justice. I even like it when he's annoying me. What I love the most is seeing him happy, truly happy. I want to make him happy. And I know that Don's an intense person – he would see sex as a true way of connection. He would see it as a gift, given my initial reluctance.

I know it'll make me a happy woman too.

I can't stop the wicked smile that fixes on my face as I count the till takings. I think of the things I need to buy from the nearest x-rated store. I'm excited now. I haven't done the ultra feminine things for a while, so it'll be good to do it.

Jacks picks up on my weird mood, but I think she thinks I'm on my period. I'm not going to dispel her belief, it'll work out well for me.

We say goodbye at the doors to our apartments, and I check the time. 5.30pm. Okay, if I borrow Jacks's car, I should get to Don's within 15 minutes, and then it should take about 20 to make dinner…crap, I better call him, or else this won't work. When I call Don, he says that I don't have to rush dinner, he won't be able to get there until 7.

Score for me!

I get everything I need, borrow Jacks' keys, and head to the nearest Condom Kingdom. I'm tempted to put on a pair of sunglasses and a wig just in case someone inside recognises me. Just to soothe my jitters, I pretend that I'm on a top secret mission to get the ingredients for seduction and get out within ten minutes. Childish? Yep. But the thought makes me giggle.

Seven minutes later, I'm back in the car with a packet of condoms and lube that doubles as spermicide. Hey, I'm all about protection, and besides, I have a feeling we're gonna need that extra help with the lube and all. Although I'm interested to try this 'warming' variety. Never gotten anything like that before.

Glancing at the items on my passenger seat, I giggle. There's something liberating about planning to surprise your boyfriend with an intimate invitation.

"Oh God, I hope following my instinct is right," I mutter.

When I haul my bag of goodies up to Flack's apartment (thank the Lord he's got an elevator), I pause in front of the door.

I'm changing things. If I go through this door I'm changing it all. It's more serious than before, it means we're really and fully committed. My hand shakes slightly as I reach for the key he gave me. Frustrated with myself, I give myself a little pep talk. "You are a grown woman. You want him, he wants you. It's only natural. And you've gotta go for it," I whisper to myself. My determination and excitement fills me and I let myself in.

I look around the room. I've got Don's apartment memorised by now, where the obvious things are and such. I quickly head to the kitchen. The first order of business is to prep everything to make sure that it's ready on time for when my lover boy comes home. Steaks have been marinading all day, so I leave them out to rest. I layer the pre-cut eggplant and potato slices in an oven dish with a bit of Napoli sauce and cheese and slide it into the oven to cook. By this time it's 6.20pm.

Plenty of time.

I quickly let myself in his bathroom, shimmying out of my clothes and having a quick shower, using the bit of strawberry shower gel I brought with me just to freshen up a bit, making sure my legs are shaved and all other necessary parts too. I step out, towel off, and pull my secret weapon from the depths of the bag I brought. It's lingerie I bought as a welcome to NYC gift for me as soon as I got here. It's black to match the strappy heels I packed and slide on. The bra is a balconette style, the lacy edges tickling my skin. The panties are more modest than the g-string the saleslady tried to push on me. I prefer boyleg styles, and the lacy edges make it more feminine than a usual boyleg. I look at my body in the mirror, smiling.

I'm pleased with what I see. I rarely think of myself as sexy, but I feel good in this. My legs are my favourite part of my body, although I'm rarely self confident about my hips – no matter how many times Don insists he likes them. I put my heels on and quickly walk back to the kitchen (running in heels is still a talent I have yet to master), putting the steaks on.

It is so weird to be cooking in nothing but underwear. This is the first time I've tried something like this too. As the meat sizzles in the pan, I get back to the bathroom, applying a touch of make up to top off the look. I then get out this horribly cliché 50's style red and white chequered apron edged with a frilled hem and pocket. In the wide pocket I put my little hoard of sex protection.

And all this time I'm thinking, '_please let this all work out for me.'_ I want this to work. I do.

I stash my overnight bag near the door just in case things turn sour and I can make a getaway. I remind myself to breathe. Getting jiggy with it is cause for fun. I get my CD out and put it in Don's awesome stereo system, pausing it just before the first track begins to play. It's a collection of songs I play to make myself feel good.

….oh heck I may as well admit it. They're songs I play to make myself feel a bit spicy and naughty.

Fifteen minutes to go. I quickly flip the steaks and take out the veggie bake, satisfied to see that they cooked no problem. I hurriedly eat a light meal, during which my phone rings.

"Hello."

"Hey, Anna, I'm gonna be a few minutes late…that doesn't screw anything up, right?" Don replies.

Aw, he's so sweet. And he wonders why I call him sugar.

"Nope, that's fine. I just can't wait until you get here. I got a surprise for you."

"I thought you promised not to make my place look weird," he banters.

"I did. No, this is something else," I reply, being as vague as possible. I can practically hear his curiosity perk up over the phone line. "Just get home and you'll see," I say temptingly, and then abruptly hang up. I can just picture him cursing in Irish. I grin, finishing off my dinner and popping a breath mint. Seeing as I've got a few more minutes, I light the sole candle in Don's apartment and try to get in the mindset, unlocking the door so I can just call out and have Don walk in.

I wander back into the kitchen when I hear faint footsteps in the hall.

I wink at myself in the reflection of the window and grab the remote of the music player and flick it on just as the knock comes at the door.

"Come on in!" I call, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine in my hand I had poured earlier.

The door opens and I hear Don call, "Isn't this that song? The one you were singing when we got out of the Chicago musical?"

"Yep!" I call back, listening to him moving around, putting his stuff away. Hot, unashamed desire threads through my every thought, every vein. Butterflies fly in my stomach, but they're the good kind. I can't wait to see his face.

"Hey something smells good. Are you in the kitchen?"

"Yep."

"All right, what are you up…to…"

He enters the kitchen mid-sentence, trailing off as his eyes darken and widen as he takes me in, stripped down to my girly lingerie with the apron not leaving much to the imagination, leaning against the bench in a come-hither pose as I take a sip of my wine. His mouth drops open and I smirk under the obvious attention. "_If you want my gravy…pepper my ragout. Spice it up for Anna, and she'll get hot for you,"_ I sing lowly. I feel my inhibitions disappear and any lack of confidence is gone as the drumbeat pounds in the background.

"Well _hello_ there," he murmurs, finally finding his voice, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Hey sugar," I purr. I can tell by the tenting in his slacks that he likes what he sees.

"You've been planning this since this morning, haven't you?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

"Mmm-hmm…you like? Or should I be changing back into normal clothes and resolve to try another day?" I ask innocently, moving one step closer and cocking a hip out.

"You leave, and ten cold showers won't be able to cool me down," Don replies. He loosens his tie and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps. I have the strangest urge to pay a lot of attention to that spot. "Wow…just…wow…this was the last thing I was expecting," he manages to say, coming closer still. I can see his hands twitch from the urge to not grab me and kiss me senseless – and I know he can do it too. Hell, I'm resisting from saying to screw the preliminaries and go onto the main event.

Carefully, I reach out and place a hand on his chest, halting him. "Uh-uh, sugar…this is dinner _and_ a show…and dessert," I murmur to him. I like this feeling of bewitching control I have over Don. I point to the table and encourage him to move there. "You just relax. I've got it all covered."

"Got protection?" he asks me, concern lacing the desire he has.

I teasingly pull out a condom from the pocket of my apron, the metallic coloured wrapping flashing in the light. "Sure do."

Those blue eyes almost knock me for six, they're so emotive and deep. Don knows how much deliberation I went through to get to this moment. Quick as a flash, his hands, warm and large, are on the bare skin of my waist, his mouth blistering, hard, passionate on mine.

I reluctantly pull away, my voice husky as I lightly reproach him. "Hands off sugar…at least, until after the show. I need to get some food in you to make sure you're fuelled for the ride," I tease.

"I think the engine has already started," he replies, equally as teasing. He hums and asks, "So I'm not allowed to touch?"

"Not until the show is over and you've eaten," I reply, winking.

He sighs. "You are pure torture, Cormier."

"I know. But remember, we agreed that I'd call the shots the first time," I remind him with a smirk.

He shrugs, unable to pull his gaze from my body. "You're so gorgeous," Don murmurs. He then goes over to the table, sitting down. I bring him his food, intentionally extending my walk, swinging my hips, slowly approaching. That smile on his face makes all this effort oh so worth it. He looks just as excited as I am. As I serve him, he says, "This is a fantasy I didn't even know I had 'til I saw you in that little frilly apron."

"I didn't even know I had it in me until I did it," I reply, and I can feel my cheeks tint pink. Honesty is still the best policy though.

Don's grin is wolfish after that statement.

He begins to eat, but it's slow, distracted by my lack of apparel. I ignore it – I have to or else my plan won't be complete. I flick the music on louder, switching on the song that I know I can sing. I close my eyes, getting myself lost in the music and dim the lights, placing myself in the space in front of the table. "_I'm feeling sexy and free. Like glitter's raining on me," _I begin to sing. 'Domino' by Jessie J is one of my favourites. I don't open my eyes through the whole performance, although I can practically feel the heat of Don's stare. I finish, finally opening my eyes to see that he's loosened his shirt, giving me a delicious glimpse of that dark chest hair.

"Encore?" he asks.

"Oh, that's just the beginning," I purr as the next song plays.

Aerosmith's 'Dude looks like a lady' is always one to get me moving. Although the lyrics make me laugh, the guitar and saxophone are raunchy. I dance like I've never danced before at a club, intentionally trying to sex it up, exaggerating my hip movements and tossing my hair around. I trail my hands all over my body, unintentionally turning me on even more because my nerves are hyper sensitive.

I shimmy my hips, walking towards Don, who must have scarfed down the last of his meal, because the plate is empty. He's watching me, intense, scrutinising my every move. He's tapping his fingers, fighting his impatience. "Howdy," I wink at him, twirling on the spot as the track changes, sultry tango emanating out of the speakers. I grab the front of his shirt, ripping it apart to expose more of those muscular pecs as I kneel over his lap on the chair. He's gripping the seat of the chair in an attempt not to touch me as I smirk down at him.

"Are you happy? I'm on the edge now," Don grits out, jaw clenched as I test his control.

"Very," I reply sultrily, bending down to taste the hot skin of his neck. I can taste salt and it sends a little thrill of eroticism through every part of me. "I dare you to undo my apron."

Instantly, his hands fly up, yanking the bow undone and I giggle at his desperation. He drags it up over my head and tosses it in the direction of his bedroom door. I thought I would be prepared for the onslaught of Don Flack.

Turns out, I'm so in over my head, but I love it.

While Don's hands are gentle as they trail down to my hips, gripping there, thumbs massaging my hide with deliciously coarse pads, his mouth is passionate, firm, pleading. I can feel the hardness of him through the fabric of his slacks as I wiggle my hips down. Don growls into my mouth, one hand sliding up into my hair, grasping it and pulling back. Ever tender in his passion, his eyes somehow manage to convey playfulness and a gravity inducing seriousness. I can barely see him as his searing mouth brands its way down my neck and over my décolletage. I gasp as he gently sucks over the scar on my shoulder.

"You," he murmurs between nuzzles, "are so fucking sexy."

His cursing is so sinfully naughty in that moment that I moan and arch into his mouth as it lips around the edge of my bra, over the top of my breasts. "You're not bad yourself, sugar," I counter as my fingers wander to his chest, pushing through the strands of chest hair and carefully scratching over the muscular area. I can feel my whole body kicking into high gear as he leaves hickeys all over my upper chest. I press his head closer to my body and whisper, "Oh God, Don…I want you."

He pauses and smirks up at me, his voice deepening. "Ditto."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I chuckle, sliding off his lap, grabbing his shirt and yanking him towards the bedroom, pausing only to pick up my supplies in my apron.

"Anna," Don laughs, following me with an affectionate gleam in his eyes. He pins me to the wall next to the door to kiss me again, making my toes curl. "I may be impatient when it comes to getting my hands on you…but I'm gonna take my time…and we're gonna make it good," he murmurs, scorching and lusty in my ear. He then shows his strength by cupping my ass and lifting me up, causing me to cry out in surprise before laughing along with him.

The only thing I can focus on as he lays me on his bed are his eyes, burning into my mind. Hell, I couldn't care if he suddenly has to leave to go to work – I think I'm having a mini-orgasm just because of the sheer expression in his eyes.

Don does a little stripping of his own and covers my body with his own tall, strong one, his mouth latching back onto mine heatedly.

Oh yeah, he's right. This is going to be _awesome_.

* * *

We're panting and sweat slicked an hour and a half later, and I let out a sigh of pure satisfaction pass through my lips. I'm still trembling from my climax. "Looks like we didn't need that lube after all," I murmur.

Don's laughter, full and rich and beautiful, fills the air. "No," he agrees knowingly, "we didn't." He rolls off me just enough so that I don't get crushed, but his face is so very close to mine and an arm lays across the bare skin of my waist as our legs remain tangled. He makes a sound of pleasure deep in his throat and pulls me closer so that I can feel his body, hot like a radiator, all along my right side. Little puffs of air from his mouth caress my cheek. "And you were so worried," he teased lightly.

"Mmm…" I moan slightly, stretching. "I was. I think most of my confidence issues have been resolved tonight. But unfortunately, I think I have another problem."

"Oh?"

"I don't think I'll be able to walk straight tomorrow," I grin at him.

Don laughs again, the sound making me want him in all the best ways all over again. The nakedness of his body only makes mine perk to attention. The thing about my hormones? Once I've had sex, I want it again, pretty much straight after the first round. I rub my thighs together, hoping he doesn't notice.

He does.

An eyebrow quirks up at me as he smirks. "Gearing up for round two, Anna?"

"I can't help it…you've made me just a touch insatiable tonight," I reply huskily, letting my hand come up to trace his lips before wandering, light and teasing, down his neck, chest, those drool-worthy abs – paying some light attention to the scarring there I had explored with my mouth earlier, through his happy trail, and to…

"Uuhh," Don grunts, the fire in his blue eyes sparking.

Smirking, I push my lover on his back and straddle him, reaching for a condom. Sometimes it's odd to find a man beautiful, but that's just what Don is. His blue eyes half-lidded in pleasure, that dark hair sticking up from the amount of times I've gently gripped it, his mouth open as he breathes deep and beads of sweat slowly drip down his neck, ripe for me to lick off.

"Savannah," he moans.

"I've always wanted to ride you like Zorro," I purr.

It makes him chuckle, his gaze glinting with sensuality. "Go on baby, show me."

And I do, leaving us moaning each other's names into the night.

* * *

**A/n: ….yeah. Let's just say that I'd do this to Don Flack. He's so bloody sexy. **

**I didn't want to write a full sexual sequence because: a) I think it would detract too much from the fic, and b) I'm scared I'd mess it up. Looking back over my Avengers sex scenes, I cringe. But, yeah, I really hoped you guys found that satisfying so let me know. I know I did. ;)**

**Oh...did it feel natural and flowing? That was my main concern with this chapter. **


	25. Sweet Morning

**A/N: Oh you guys, you are all so wonderful: Smuffly, Kayla, SomebodyWhoCares, Leslie Emm, Annabella Colt and no accounter. I'm so glad you liked the last chapter and the fact that Anna and Don finally did it! Whoo! Onto the morning after :D**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, descriptions of nakedness. Not explicit.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 24 – Sweet Morning**

* * *

_She's a craze you'd endorse, she's a powerful force  
You're obliged to conform when there's no other course  
She used to look good to me, but now I find her  
Simply irresistible_

**Robert Palmer – Simply Irresistible**

* * *

Don woke up slowly, content to feel the sunlight streaming in through his blinds and the softness of the woman pressed up on his side. Savannah was still deep in the realms of sleep – looks like that satisfaction extended all the way to the morning. They were both buck naked and covered only by a single sheet. He smiled.

Last night would definitely be memorable.

That had never happened. He had never been surprised like that before. And it made him admire Savannah's gutsiness even more.

Looking down at his lover, Don felt peace settle over him. Her hair was a little wild from their activities, but she had a content expression, her long lashes bold and dark, pretty against the fair skin. He didn't want to wake her up. On the other hand, he didn't want her to wake up and find that he was not in bed, which would happen to execute his plan. Slowly, he slid out from under Savannah's arm, placing his pillow in his place. Anna made a snuffling noise before settling again, her arms wrapping around it.

Crossing his fingers that she would stay like that awhile, Don quickly performed his morning ablutions and sneaked to his spare room. While he didn't think he would have enough time to make a romantic gesture with a trip to get real flowers, he thought a butterfly would do the trick. He had a pretty plastic blue butterfly in one of his junk room boxes that had belonged to Lucy. Somewhere. As quietly as possible, the detective searched the boxes, finally finding it. He left it on the pillow so it would be the first thing Anna saw when she woke up, writing a little note to let her know where he was.

Changing into casual clothes, Don crept into the kitchen, firing up the stereo on its softest setting and preparing to make Eggs Benedict.

He might not be the most romantic of guys, and he would have definitely loved seeing Savannah wake up, but Flack thought that this gesture was a simple one he could do after all her…ahem…efforts last night. Besides, if there was one thing he knew how to make really well, it was this dish.

Before he knew it, he was grinning like a fool as he made breakfast, humming along to Gary Clark Jr on the stereo.

Don was still blown away by the events that had transpired. He hadn't even pictured that the night would turn out that way. He was thinking that he would have had to wait a little while longer before Savannah was comfortable enough with him to share her body.

And what a body it was.

All he had been thinking was that Savannah had maybe made some cheesecake or something.

How glad he was to be proven wrong.

Flack was just scooping the eggs out of the poaching liquid when he heard his bedroom door open and feet pad on carpet. His smile was wide when his lover stood in the entrance to the kitchen. She had the butterfly in one hand, the note in the other, and she was wearing one of his sweatshirts that fell to mid-thigh on her.

And Savannah was positively glowing.

Her smile was bright and joyous, but soft and tender as well. "Good morning Don," she murmured.

"It is now," the tall man countered, leaving the plates for a moment to move to her, pulling her closer to him as she looked up at him coyly. "Nice to see you're up, sleepy head."

"Mmm," she hummed, her hands snaking up to clasp behind his neck, gently playing with the short hairs there. "Well, I did happen to have this marathon sex session with this really fun, amazing guy who's a real gentleman. Knows how to make breakfast too," she teased, leaning up to kiss him slowly.

Don had a momentary thought of going for another round on the kitchen counter, but it was definitely nixed when both their stomachs grumbled. He turned back to the food. "Oh yum," Savannah murmured from behind him.

"What, the food?" he asked.

Cheekily, Savannah replied, "That, and a nice view of your butt in those jeans."

"'Ey, you leave my butt alone, you."

"I can't promise not to look," she bantered back, taking her breakfast from her partner. They sat opposite, smirking at each other as they ate. She couldn't stop staring at him. Don looked even better in the daylight than he had last night, the crinkles in his face from happiness noticeable – Anna liked seeing them there. She knew that her own laugh lines were being etched with the amount of smiling she was doing, but she couldn't help it. That connection had been everything they needed.

"You know, one look at your face and anyone who knows you will know we had a little fun under the sheets last night," Don pointed out good naturedly.

"I might be the obvious one, but you're no better," replied Savannah.

"Oh come on," Don said, smoothing out his expression. But upon seeing his lover smiling and raising an eyebrow at him, the nonplussed expression cracked to give way to his grin. "Okay, I give. But when I go into work, this face-" he gestured to it, "-won't be there."

"You saying we should try and hide it?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I just don't want you to be mocked for it. I don't want anyone giving you a hard time just because did something that was all our own," he murmured, his voice softer, considerate. He reached forward and took Anna's hand, gently rubbing over the knuckles. "Or else I might actually have to make up some parking tickets for them. And that's not exactly good if my captain found out."

Rolling her eyes, Savannah replied, "If anyone even tries to ridicule me, I'll make sure they know _just_ how jealous they should be."

"While I like the concept-"

"I'm kidding," Savannah snickered. "I wouldn't do that. I'll just give them my usual attitude."

"Everyone should know not to mess with you – you always get them back," Don said fondly. "Even me."

"You might be a little more exempt from that now," she replied slyly. She collected the plates and begun washing up, waving off her partner's protests. He just resolved to let Anna do what she wanted and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Feeling affectionate, he moved the messy curls out of the way and began to kiss her neck softly. He smirked when she leaned back into him.

"Don," she said warningly. "Don't start something we don't have time to finish – as fun as it would be."

"Who said I don't intend on following through? I mean, we still have to have showers, and we have to be environmentally conscious after all. It would probably be better if we shower together," Don proposed lowly, slowly kissing along the shoulder, pulling his shirt to the side to expose more of her skin.

"Are you usually this amorous in the morning?"

"Mmm."

Finishing the dishes, Savannah span around, her eyes green with lust. Their brightness momentarily stunned Don. "You better not be playing with me sugar," she stated bluntly.

"Would these eyes lie?" he asked guilelessly.

The brunette hummed in approval with a smirk, and the spark ignited. "No," she whispered huskily, pushing him back in the direction of his bathroom. They wore matching smug looks as they headed there, leaving a trail of clothes on the way.

* * *

"Hey guys, I'm sorry I'm a little late," Flack said as he exited his car.

Turned out as he and Savannah were in the shower – and having a really good time, he might add – dispatch had tried to call him and ended up texting him that he had a scene to get to. Completely disregarding the fact he had another hour before he was meant to be called in. Still, duty called, and Savannah had not grudged him that at all. Then again, that might have been because of the fact she was feeling very bubbly and relaxed. He had followed her car to the cafe to make sure she was fine before going up to Washington Heights. Flack had been glad for Anna's foresight in packing a change of clothes in her bag, he didn't want it to be so obvious that they had been together last night. He didn't want to hide the relationship, but he liked to keep things on the down low.

Mac looked up from where he was photographing the body, his eyes curious and shrewd. "What kept you? Dispatch said you weren't able to be contacted for about half an hour."

Keeping his cool, Flack replied, "My phone died so I had to charge it. And traffic was murder."

"Really?" Lindsay chipped in from where she was scraping some trace off the sidewalk. "We came here about 20 minutes ago and the traffic was fine."

"Yes, really," he replied.

Lindsay shrugged, but Mac looked unconvinced. Flack surged on, he had a job to do. "I'll go check with first on scene, yeah?"

Without waiting for an answer, he went to see the young officer waiting about seven feet away. "What've we got?"

"Call in came in at 8.30 this morning. No ID or wallet, and the call came from the payphone a block away. I informed the other detectives that I would get the dispatch call over to them," the officer informed him.

"Anything else?"

"No sir."

Nodding, Flack turned away, a wry smirk crossing his face. He swore that the rookies were looking younger and younger each time he met a new one. It was hard to believe that a little over ten years had passed since he graduated and began to make a difference in this crazy city. Crossing back over to the body, he watched as Lindsay used one of the portable AFIS scanners to print the body of the middle-aged Hispanic looking man laying spread eagled in the middle of the sidewalk. "The officer over there says he recovered no ID. Dispatch in their text said that the first call about a body came in at 8.30, and then a few more followed after that. What have you guys got?"

"A hit in AFIS," replied the short woman, scrutinising the gadget in her hand, tapping it. "Our vic is a Norman Grecoloro, in the system for the unarmed robbery of a bodega back in '02. He spent two months in prison."

Jotting it down in his memo book, the taller detective said, "All right, I'll track down any information on him. I'll do my usual thing and see if he has a family we can chat with, see if he has any enemies."

Mac added, "And also see if he has a job that has something to do with paint." Seeing Don's perplexed expression, he grabbed a hand and turned it over, showing splatters of green and red across the palms.

"That's odd," observed Lindsay, frowning. "The paint looks localised to his palms. If he has a job to do with paint, surely there would be some other trace of it. I wonder why?"

"I'll leave that to you scientists. That's not my job, I'm just the information gopher," quipped Flack, making his friends smirk. It was unsaid that they all knew that the job of a detective was a lot more than that.

After an hour, Mac was satisfied that they had collected enough evidence. Flack had made calls and found that Grecoloro had left a wife and daughter. He intended to visit the family as soon as the chain of evidence had been observed. He was about to leave when Mac stopped him.

"Hold on Flack, I want to ride along. Lindsay, make sure that paint trace gets to Adam straight away."

"Sure," replied Lindsay confidently, grabbing the keys from him.

Don always had to smirk when he saw Lindsay behind the wheel of the massive SUV's the lab used. She looked like a kid in comparison.

On the way to the address, Mac seemed to be pondering something. After a few minutes, the CSI said, completely out of the blue, "If I had make-up I'd offer it to you, although something tells me you'd look at me weird."

Don braked suddenly, whipping his head to the side to see his friend smirking. "I'm looking at you weird now. What are you talking about?"

A beep made the younger detective realise he was causing a mini-traffic jam and he waved off the impatient motorists behind him, trying to focus on driving in light of Mac's statement.

"So you haven't noticed?"

"_What _haven't I noticed?"

"That very large and noticeable love bite on your neck, just under your right ear," Mac replied as if discussing the weather.

Stunned was an understatement to how Flack felt. He quickly pulled over, twisting the rear-view mirror over and exposing his neck by tilting his head to the side, hoping that he could see the mark. He groaned in mortification as he saw the bright red mark, just as Mac had said. "When the hell did that happen?" he wondered aloud, prodding it.

"You mean you don't remember if someone did that to you?" Mac questioned with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"No, it's not that…I remember, I just…oh shit," Flack stammered, completely caught off guard. His ears reddened madly at Mac's amused look.

"So, you and Savannah huh?"

"Yeah," Don admitted reluctantly, knowing that it was no use denying it. The main CSI team knew they were dating, and he knew, just knew that Mac would jibe about the 'evidence' on his neck if he tried to. "I had no idea when she…" he trailed off as the memory suddenly hit him. They had just been in the shower, and he had pressed her up against the tiled wall, wrapped her legs around him, and like a little vampire she had attacked that spot on his neck. "Oh," he muttered.

"I take it you remember now?" the older man said wryly.

"Zip it."

Mac chuckled knowingly. "Teasing aside, good for the both of you. It's nice to see you both happy lately. I'm glad that Anna came into our lives."

"Me too," replied Don, smiling fondly.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"Have you been hiding that smile all morning?" Mac asked.

Could he ever hide anything from this guy? "Yeah."

"Do I even want to know? Actually, no, I don't. I remember that smile coming out before and it means you're head over heels," the older man observed.

"Mac, you know how much I don't like labelling things," replied Don.

"I know. I'm just saying it's nice to see it back."

"Like how people told you it was good to see you smiling again after…" Flack trailed off, not wanting to cross the line. He glided back onto the road easily as Mac replied, "Exactly."

"Well, we all know that Anna's special," he pointed out.

Smiling that knowing closed lipped smile, Mac said, "And we know that you're both special to each other. My respect for her has gone up even more if she can make you smile and pull you out of the dark when you start to edge in."

Don didn't know how to reply to that, really. That simple statement said so much about his and Savannah's relationship. Eventually, he just murmured, "Thanks Mac. Just do me a favour? Can you make sure that Danny doesn't happen to cross my path today? He'll razz me about it all day if he sees it."

"You might as well avoid the PD too," Mac pointed out.

Wincing, Flack said, "Maybe I _should_ put something on it to hide it."

"That would be wise."

* * *

Savannah pulled her hair into a ponytail as she walked into the cafe. Just before she had left for Don's last night she had offered her cousin the afternoon off if she promised to open up. Jacks had agreed, so everything was set up by the time Don had seen her off. She had resisted the urge to do something clingy like kiss him senseless as she left the apartment – just to give him a parting reminder. She had just kissed his cheek and hopped into Jacks' car she had borrowed, wishing him well for work.

His parting grin still made her knees weak.

But then again, it might have been because of this morning's shower. She still felt a little, pleasant ache with each step she took. Savannah didn't regret a moment of it.

She went directly to the kitchen, hoping she was acting normally enough that no one noticed as she went to put her things away.

No such luck.

As Anna put away her bag full of clothes she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Jacks standing there expectantly.

"And just where did you go last night?"

"I think you know," replied Savannah casually.

Jacks narrowed her eyes before grabbing her cousin's wrist and tugging her into the cool-room, closing the door behind them. Savannah, disgruntled at being handled like that, sighed, aggravated. "What?" she demanded.

"I wondered why you were acting weird yesterday," Jacks started sternly, and then stopping. The severe expression suddenly faded to a happy smile. "Oh my goodness Chere, don't you know how obvious it is that you just got some good detective lovin'? I think they can see that smile from outer space."

Savannah blushed, placing a hand to her face to check that yes, she was still grinning like a lunatic.

Jacks giggled then, hugging Savannah in excitement and squealing. "Oh Anna, I'm so happy for you!" She then clapped her hands and bounced on her feet. "I was hoping that this would happen soon! The love you have for tall dark and handsome is so obvious in your eyes I'm surprised it don't shine like lighthouses. That Don is a lucky man."

"No," Savannah replied softly, bashfully. "I'm the lucky one."

"Bah, you'll both disagree with the other, so you're both lucky and we'll leave it at that," Jacks pronounced. She then got a sly look. "So, he must be good if he's got you lighting up like a firefly."

"Jacks!" Savannah admonished lightly.

"What? Girl, you should be jumping on the ceiling."

"As much as I would love to, I've got work to do," the taller woman deflected expertly while Jacks rolled her eyes.

"At least tell me how long he lasted," prodded the shorter woman.

Feeling a little risqué still after last night, Savannah dropped a little teaser. "Which time?"

That sent them both into easy laughter. "Day-um. Does he have a brother?"

"Married, lives just outside of New York, so sorry Jacks, looks like there's no Flack available for you," retorted the cafe owner.

"Pity. But seriously Anna…you go girl."

Savannah just smirked coyly and got back to work. But the whole day she was humming when she wasn't speaking to anyone, and she managed to pass of that extra bit of pep to her personality that day as the fact she had too much caffeine – and the fact she was glad she was busy. Later on, after the adopted Callum and his parents had swung by, she had stated that as the reason why she had been so happy. But it was only a half truth.

Truth? She couldn't wait to see Don again.

And that moment just couldn't come too soon.

* * *

**A/N: This is a bit shorter than recent chapters, but I felt it was right just to show the little effects of 'the morning after' for the couple. Also, I forgot to mention earlier, hello to the new followers and favourites of this fic as well as reviewers. I would love any feedback you all give me. **

**As you all have noticed, I'm updating more regularly and the truth is my muse is going nuts. I might update next chapter early as well if you all ask very nicely XD!**


	26. Trouble

**A/N: Thank you so much to Smuffly, SomeoneWhoCares, Forest Angel, Annabella Colt, noaccounter and Kayla. You are all fabulous reviewers and because you asked so nicely…here is the next chapter. But be prepared for a surprise. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest. After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, descriptions of nakedness, some violence.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 25 – Trouble**

* * *

_I won't go  
I won't sleep  
I can't breathe  
Until you're resting here with me _

**Dido – Here With Me**

* * *

"Don, I gotta get up."

"No."

"Don…I really have to go into work."

"Mmm, I want you to stay," Flack murmured sleepily, his arm curling around Savannah's body. "It's like five in the morning baby."

"And while I think it's a stupid time to be getting up, I have to go back to my apartment and get ready. I can't let Jacks open up again," Savannah disputed softly, gently tugging at the arm that barred her way out of her lover's bed. "I mean, I know it's only the third time we've done this, but-"

"Shh…just a few more minutes. For me," Don whispered, rolling atop Savannah and grinning down at her. "I like having you in my bed, just in case you couldn't tell."

Savannah sighed. "You are incorrigible."

"You like me that way."

"I do."

Lasciviously, Don leaned down and slowly conquered the full, soft lips that parted to invite him in. Although they had only gotten hot and heavy four days ago, he felt like they were very sexually compatible. There was an equality to their sessions in the bedroom that he liked. They were still getting used to each other, and it made for some funny moments that were surprisingly not awkward at all. He dominated the kiss, a silent plea for Anna to stay just a little longer. He felt her sigh into him and he pressed harder, feeling her breasts against his chest perk up.

"Uhm, Don, I really don't have time," mumbled Savannah apologetically, carefully pushing him away. "As much as I'd love to throw caution to the wind, my guilt is beginning to bug me."

Seeing the set determination in her eyes – more green than grey in their amorousness – the detective exhaled, sensing he would lose this battle. He knew that once his partner's conscious kicked in, it would rule over anything else. "That's fair enough," he agreed, knowing that if he had being the one saying he had to leave for a crime scene that Anna wouldn't hold it against him. She understood the demands of being a cop.

Loosening his hold, Don propped himself up on his elbows and simply watched the curvaceous form slide out of his bed and pick up her clothes.

"Must you watch?" asked Savannah, a little reserved about her lover watching her so blatantly parade around naked.

"You're sexy," Flack replied like it was an entrenched fact. "I think I'm becoming addicted to you."

If it had been any other person, the brunette would have brushed off the comment as part of the afterglow of sex, but it was Don, who was as brutally honest as they came. When he said something personal, he revealed something about himself. She smiled at him. "Likewise," she replied, waving goodbye coyly at him.

Pouting slightly, the blue eyed man murmured, "I wish you didn't have to go. I wanted to make you breakfast again, that was fun."

"It was. I promise we can do something tonight if you have such a pressing need to cook for me."

"I just like giving back."

"In more ways than cooking," flirted Savannah, reminding them both of their particularly wild session last night. It had been free, explorative, and louder than they had been previously. It had left both trembling and grinning afterwards before they slipped into sleep.

"Stop flirting or else there _will_ be a morning round and you'll be late for work," advised Don warningly.

"True," replied Savannah, coming around to the bed and laying a quick kiss on his cheek. "Call me later. I'll lock the door on the way out, okay sugar?"

"Have a good day," he wished her farewell.

"You too."

* * *

**Don POV**

Once the door to the apartment latched, I sighed, lying back on my bed and putting my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling. Content. Satisfied. And missing Savannah already. There were no words to describe how much I felt for my vivacious lover. When she gave herself, she gave it her all with her full trust in me, gave me her soul. I don't know if she realised just how expressive she was whenever we were just talking or in the middle of lovemaking. But I swear, behind that lusty gleam in her eyes, she's exposing herself completely. Laying it bare for me.

It's almost scary how much she makes that connection with me.

What I told Mac a few days ago is true. Oh I'm committed to Savannah, but I don't like labelling things. I never did with Jess and I regretted it for so long. Until I met Savannah, really. I don't think she realises just how much power she has over me.

No man really admits it, but then they really care for a woman, they can play us like putty.

That's what my dad told me when I was younger. It made me and my siblings go 'eeew!' when we saw him and mom kissing, but when I got older, I could understand it. They were expressing themselves in the most g-rated form around us. Showing us their love.

Speaking of parents…I've been thinking lately that maybe I should take Anna to meet them. We've officially been together about four months, but I feel like it's been longer. Like we've known each other forever. Not to mention, my parents came back from the cruise a month ago. I think it would be nice to surprise them that I've got a girlfriend. Mom especially was worried after Jess's death that I would be bitter, alone and angry for the rest of my life.

Dad gave me more credit. He said to me, "We're Flack men, Donnie. We soldier on. We're fighters. If we weren't, we wouldn't choose women who challenge us at every turn instead of being complacent, and we wouldn't have the need to do the jobs we do." Those simple words of support were some of the brightest burning in my head.

One part of it was definitely true. I had chosen a woman who challenges me even when there's no challenge. Just because it was fun.

I grin, an idea popping into my head.

Maybe we can work Monopoly in tonight somehow and make it a bit more challenging. Like, whoever has to pay money to the other player if they land on a property has to take an item of clothing off. Sounds like a good idea to me, especially if I can get Savannah to land on my properties before I land on any of hers…

Unable to sleep now – thank you imagination – I head for the shower and quickly take care of my little problem which isn't little in the scheme of things. Some fantasising and I'm all satisfied again, although not as fulfilling as it is with Anna. It's too early to be legal, but I don't have to even start getting ready for work for another hour. I dress in whatever is lying on the ground (note to self, get new shirts that have stronger buttons that don't pop off under the pressure of an eager, horny girlfriend) and trudge into the kitchen to make coffee, yawning.

This would have been a hell of a lot more pleasant if Anna didn't have to go to work so early, but like me, she's dedicated.

Once it's done, I take my coffee and an old newspaper out to my balcony, sitting and leaning against the railing. It's a warm morning, a little muggy, and I can see a few dark clouds in the distance. It might be an autumn storm, it is early October after all. It's nice to slow down and relax every once and a while, and this morning is no different. I can hear cars, a beep of a horn every now and then, and the buzz of New York as it begins to fire up for a new day. NYC hardly sleeps, it's true. It just dims and then lights up again. That's how I see it.

Speaking of seeing, I probably should spend a morning out here with Anna. She hasn't been out here yet, and I think she'd love the view. I think I could listen to her talk and talk for hours. And sing too. I can just imagine her chatter about the river and about the surrounding buildings – she'd probably even try to turn me into a green thumb by suggesting I put a pot plant out here or something just to brighten it up. She loves that garden on her own rooftop so much that she tried to teach me how to plant some herb, but I ended up almost killing the plant.

Hey, a guy can't be great at everything.

That crazy 'home' feeling and that warmth spreads across my chest again just thinking about her and the things we've done.

I want to give her a gift. I know it's her birthday in a few weeks, on the 24th, but I think I should get her something a little special as well. Just from me to her. Maybe a nice piece of jewellery. But knowing Savannah, she'd probably gush about it and tell me I shouldn't have spent so much on her.

Screw it.

She deserves nice stuff. I think of all things she's been through, and every single time I can't help but have this massive respect for her huge heart. She cares about others almost to the exclusion of herself and because of her ex, she's not used to people doing really considerate things for her. Something I think I've begun to change. While I can tell Anna's a little self conscious with her body still, she lets her confidence shine through – always an attractive thing to see. Each time the people in the Crime Lab do something nice for her, she's beginning to accept just how much we care for her as a person. She's getting back what she's giving.

My mind is made up. I'm going to get Savannah something really nice, classy. Like she is. With just a little bit of sass.

I know that she likes purple, and she prefers silver over gold and hates bracelets – she says they interfere with her work and they're not really hygienic because if she works while wearing them and if food gets transferred onto the bracelet there can be cross contamination between foods.

I know there's a jewellery shop in a mall three blocks up. Maybe I should investigate on my break today. That way I can surprise her with it tonight.

Later on, as I head on down to my car to go into work early – hell, I'm up, I might as well see if they need me – my phone rings. Huh. It's Jacks. She rarely calls me.

"It's Flack," I greet.

"Is she with you?"

The lack of greeting and the brusque tone instantly makes my gut churn. My cop instinct perks up. "Who, Savannah? I thought she would be at the cafe by now, she got up early just to get there on time because she felt bad about getting you up early," I reply.

There's silence on the other end and a lump of dread inexplicably settles in my stomach. "Jacks…what's going on?"

"Anna's not here."

The tone is definitely panicked now. "Go back to the beginning," I say, hoping this is just a joke.

"I didn't hear Anna go into her apartment this morning, so I thought she went straight to the cafe. But I got a call from Harper Bloc, saying that he and Maddie and Paula were waiting out in front and there was no sign of Anna. He said that customers were puzzled and some were angry it wasn't open. I knocked on her door but there was no answer. I even got the key from mama and she wasn't there. So I catch the subway to get here to open up, and she's not here. Don, I've tried calling her. But it goes straight to voicemail. I didn't even check the car park to see if the car was back." Jacks pauses and her words make me feel like my insides have been plunged into arctic ice.

"She's missing," Jacks whispers, sound so unlike herself. She sounds…afraid.

Shit.

Fuck and all the rest.

"I'll look for her. You just take care of yourself and the cafe, okay?" I direct her.

"Okay. If anyone can find her, you can." She then hangs up without saying goodbye, leaving me with a sick feeling in my gut. Something in me tells me to just go. I speed to Savannah's apartment building, screeching into the parking lot, waking up the neighbourhood with the squeal of the tyres. The car she shares with Jacks is there but no Savannah. I get out, approaching the car. It's deserted, but it's still open. I back away and notice a silver glint near one of the wheels. Bending down, I see that it's the keys to the car. Like they had been dropped and someone tried to kick them under the car.

Something is definitely wrong here.

I look around, hoping to see some clue…

The lot is asphalt, so I won't be able to see signs of struggle if Anna was taken. I quickly scour the rest of the lot, and I see some skid marks from the back of the lot. Acceleration marks. I work backwards from there, looking between the parked cars, hoping I can find something that can give me any hint.

I'm almost back to the abandoned car when I notice a dark brown material poking from beneath a hedge that lines the lot. Intuition tells me to pull on the spare set of gloves I have in my jacket pocket for crime scenes. I then crouch and yank on the material. My heart sinks and I feel the blood rush from my face.

It's Savannah's bag.

"Oh fuck no," I whisper.

My good mood? Gone. Kaput. Vanished and never to be found.

I quickly rifle through it, finding a few condoms in an inner pocket, her cell phone, looking like it got smashed, her wallet and keys, lipstick, and a few stray receipts.

And her gun.

The one I got for her not even a week ago. She was carrying it around, and she didn't even get the chance to use it. Must mean she was knocked out quick. One thing I should be thankful for is that the person who has taken her left it here. At least I know that the gun I gave her won't be the one to injure her.

I'm dazed, shocked, gutted.

Not again.

I can't…I won't have another girlfriend stolen from me. I will find Savannah. No matter what it takes. I'll rattle the cages, but no one is going to keep me from finding her. But first of all…I have to make a very hard, and very important call. I reach for my cell and dial the familiar numbers.

"Dispatch, this is Detective Flack. I need to report an abduction."

* * *

"Urgh…my head."

The statement echoed eerily, making the owner of the voice fight the tempting pull of unconsciousness. Groaning in pain, Savannah struggled to blink her eyes. Discomfort immediately made itself known, and the back of her head was throbbing painfully. Wincing, she was a little glad the light was dim. Bright light would have made the pain worse. Carefully tilting her head so she looked up, Savannah was confused, and then fear trickled over her mentality, cold and paralysing.

She didn't know where she was.

It was dimly lit by a naked bulb about five feet in front of her, showing her a space full of empty crates and boxes. She went to move but found that she was tied securely to a chair. Her feet were bare - her ankles were bound with rope, as were her wrists behind her back. She hoped that the blow to her head wasn't bleeding. Hawkes was saying about a week ago that head wounds bled really easily.

The reality hit her then.

She had been kidnapped.

Panic rose as quick as bile. "Oh my God," she whispered, horrified.

Who the hell would take her? Was Harry Gort out of prison? Was it the asshole Lincoln Wright doing it just to scare her? Or was it just some nutjob that thought she'd make some sort of cute pet? Nevertheless, the prospect made Savannah want to disappear. How many times could she be tested before she got some peace? What made her attract such misfortune? She had thought that she had been having such a great run with Don that maybe the mundane, everyday problems would be all she would have to deal with.

Savannah fought to control her breathing as flashbacks from her past threatened to play. "Stay strong," she murmured to herself.

Breathing deeply, Savannah felt just a tad more in control. She couldn't control this situation, but she could control her breathing, and if she could control that one thing then she had a fighting chance. "Okay," she talked aloud to herself. "You don't know what the time is. What you do know is that you're in some abandoned place and…shit…what would Don do?" She instantly knew what she should do. Don had been teaching her to use her senses if she ever felt she was in danger. She could hear nothing. Might mean she was underground. But the room smelt damp, almost mouldy. Was she near the river? Or was it just bad drains? Either way, could be something. In the dim light, she could make out that there were no doors or windows in front of her or to her sides. Must mean the entrance was behind her.

She was trapped because her hands were bound and she had no other way of getting out but the door.

Savannah snapped then, pissed off. She didn't want to put up with this shit, not when she always tried so hard to be so good and not when she was always trying to stay positive.

"Fucker!" she hissed, cursing out her kidnapper. She then screamed defiantly, trying to get the attention. She wanted some answers damn it.

The sound of a door opening quieted her. But then the owner of the entering footsteps didn't come into the light, Savannah yelled, "You coward! You couldn't at least try to give me a fighting chance by attacking me from the front! You stupid, shit for brains dung heap who wouldn't be worth a diseased man's piss!"

Silence.

And then, a voice that chilled her straight through the bone.

Because she recognised it.

"Oh, Annie, what terrible things to say. Especially when you're so…defenceless."

"No…no, not you," she gasped, terror blinding her. She twisted, trying to get free. Fear built up under her ribcage, making it feel like she couldn't breathe as her kidnapper came into view. She couldn't scream – it was caught in her throat. He had changed his hair colour – from spiky and black to a weird auburn colour, and it was shorter – but apart from that, he had looked the same as he had when she had fled his abusive fists and knife and bat four years ago. Her height, dark eyes, and a broad, mean stature.

"Hey Annie…miss me?"

Jake Wallace stood arrogantly before her, a cruel smirk on his face. He reached out and touched her cheek. He saw her fighting a shudder and chuckled. "Still as pretty as ever, you little bitch."

"No," Savannah whispered hoarsely, her throat dry from shock.

"Oh yes. It's taken me a while, but I've finally got you where I want you. With me. My perfect partner once more."

"Go to hell," she spat.

And Wallace just smirked. "All in good time…but I'm taking you with me. You won't see that copper boyfriend of yours ever again."

* * *

**A/N: Did anyone see this coming?**

**Reviews are very much appreciated.**


	27. Determined

**A/N: Mwhuhahahah! I so enjoyed seeing the reactions to last chapter. Thank you to Smuffly, Kayla, noaccounter, SomeoneWhoCares, Leslie Emm and Annabella Colt – and also thank you to those who continue to read and favourite/follow. Let's see how fast the CSI's can find her!**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, violence/brutality.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 26 – Determination**

* * *

_You know you got me off my highest guard,  
Believe me when I say it's hard.  
We'll get through this tonight  
And I know one day you and I will be free_

**Secondhand Serenade – Half Alive**

* * *

Savannah found her voice. "How long have you been following me?" she demanded.

Wallace shrugged. "Oh, for about four months I've been in New York. I have to say that I've had a lot of fun hanging out in the Midwest states. Great hiding places for those on the run from the law. But I thought I was about due to come and get you, my little bitch."

The brunette refused to give an indication that she was scared. Scared of Jake's all too calm tone, scared of the fact that she didn't even get the chance to fight him and leave some sort of evidence for her friends to find. That had been one thing Monty and Don had taught her. Leave as much evidence as possible. Kind of hard to when your attacker cold clocked you when you were trying to lock the car. She didn't even hear him come up behind her. "I'm going to be found Wallace. Most of my friends are members of the Crime Lab or the NYPD. They will hunt us down. You're crazy for even trying this. Crazy," she warned.

_Wham!_

Savannah cried out as a fist collided with her cheek, almost sending her and the chair toppling to the ground.

"I'm _not_ crazy," Wallace muttered harshly, that ugly smirk fixed on his face. "I just know what I want."

"What the ever loving fuck _do_ you want?" she screamed at him, defiantly glaring back at him.

"You're coming with me. We're going to go into Mexico once my friend hooks me up with the ID's and the tickets."

Savannah realised what she must do. She could practically hear Don in her head murmuring, '_Keep him talking. Get all the information you can.'_

"Why Mexico?"

"Because I think it'll be fun. Don't you Annie?"

"I hate being called that."

"But I think it's so you," taunted Wallace. He grabbed a crate and sat down in front of her. His eyes roamed her figure. His smirk abruptly disappeared. And his expression grew colder. "You cheated on me," he snarled.

"No I didn't. I'm not even with you," retorted Savannah bitingly.

"You're mine, and nothing will ever change that. Especially that copper boyfriend you've been slutting around with. I'm going to have to beat him out of you, of course, so I can have you as my perfect partner in Mexico," the evil man replied lowly. "I've seen you smile as you enter that cafe of yours. That smile that you would give to me after our first time. And it's all because of him." He scowled, the dim light making the lines more pronounced and menacing. "It took me a little while to track you down, but it was worth it – until I saw the little slut you've become," he growled.

"I'm not a slut," she fired back, baring her teeth in her anger. "Look at you Wallace. So afraid of me and what I could do to you that you feel the need to tie me up. Coward."

Wallace was still and then he lurched towards her, punching her in the stomach, making her cry out. He then roughly grabbed her ankle, twisting it until Savannah screamed. He stepped back, breathing heavily, admiring her anguish as if it was an antique porcelain doll – as if it was beautiful. "That's what you get when you talk back to me, woman. I'm no coward. If I was a coward, I wouldn't have had the guts to shoot your friends."

Savannah felt like someone had just stabbed a knife into her heart. "You…_you_ were responsible for Amanda and James?" she asked in an eerily calm voice.

"Of course Annie. They were your support…I had to get rid of them, you see. You were too attached to them both and they knew too much."

Savannah felt like her whole world imploded then. All the remaining grief and issues from her friends deaths rushed back and played like a bad horror film. She gaped at her abusive ex in shock. "You killed them?" she whispered. Seeing his face with no remorse, she shrieked, "You KILLED them!"

"I did, and no one is ever going to know it because my DNA's not in the system. Neither are my fingerprints. So bad news for you," replied Wallace, still calm, seemingly sane. "And it's not like anyone is going to find out once we get the hell out of this stinkin' city."

Savannah didn't reply, open mouthed as a tear trickled from her eye. It was a sick sense of closure. She now knew who the murderer was, but it just made their deaths seem even more unfair. She stared at him, hoping that this was a joke. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that this was fact. He might deny that he was crazy, but she knew that he had gone over the edge. And to think that she had once been with this man.

"That's right…give into the fear," Wallace whispered. He rose and said, "I'll be back soon Annie. Got one more job before I earn the ticket to freedom."

"No…" she whispered.

"Shut up!" he roared abruptly, smacking her across the face. "You'll be mine once more. And that copper won't be able to find you."

Savannah growled, the throbbing in her head pissing her off. She kept her mouth shut. Wallace was beyond delusional. When the door slammed shut, she listened keenly.

He didn't lock it.

The bastard was arrogant enough to leave it unlocked. Probably thought that she would be confined here because of her bindings. Savannah tugged at the rope, seeing that it had just the slight bit of give in them. But any movements made her head pound. She groaned, willing the pain to go away in her head and ankle. She was sure that idiot had definitely broken it, it hurt so much. How in the hell was she meant to escape?

Then again, that could have been his plan.

Sucking up her tears, Savannah grit her teeth, gasping. Trying to allow herself to think was hard to do with her injuries, but she thought of Don, probably going to worry himself sick with the fact she would have disappeared. It would destroy any progress they had made together if Wallace managed to take her away. She knew, just knew that he would be thinking about Jess's death all over again if Wallace succeeded. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let Wallace take away something so precious and worth fighting for when already he had taken so much – her friends, her trust in men, her sense of belonging back in Hampton.

"I'll get out of here," she promised herself. "I'll find a way."

* * *

Don paced Mac's office, feeling like a caged wild animal. Mac and Stella had sped to the kidnapping scene once dispatch had relayed it, and found him staring at the blacktop. They had collected what little evidence there was before going back to the lab to analyse it all. Flack had been quiet, moody the whole way, and wouldn't leave the lab until something came back. Mac had been sympathetic, but they had a job to do and stuck his friend in his office until something came out.

At least this way, Flack could see what was going on.

Mac had put this as top priority. He could see every member of the team, even Mac hard at work. It was little solace to the fact that Savannah was missing. Had been for at least six hours. He and Danny had questioned Savannah's building. Mr. Chen in 3A had been the only one up at six in the morning, and he distinctly remembered hearing the screeching of tyres as he made his green tea. Now all he could do was wait. Wait, while Savannah could be getting further and further away by the second.

He reigned in his anger, knowing just how easy, how freeing it would be to throw something, see the glass walls shatter like all of his hope and his heart had shattered upon finding Anna's bag. It had been the most painful thing to let Savannah's aunt and cousin know that she was missing. But not as much as it hurt him to know that she was gone.

Why her? Why now?

Or was it one of his own enemies that had taken her, trying to get back at him for putting them away?

He suddenly heard some commotion outside. Lindsay had suddenly raised her arms above her head in victory, calling Mac to her. It seemed the rest of the team was heading there too. And he wasn't going to miss a second of it. He rushed out of Mac's office and to the room. Lindsay looked to be waiting for them as she excitedly announced, "Foreign epithelials that are not a match to Savannah's DNA we got off her hairbrush that I pulled off the strap of her bag? They're a match to two unsolved armed robberies in the last two months. One was two weeks ago. A batch of chloroform was stolen from a high school lab in Harlem, and the other one was a bodega in Midtown where the robber took five thousand dollars from both the counter and also the customers. He ended up using their cards before they got cancelled. Unfortunately, I have some bad news."

They could already tell. The guy wasn't in the system.

"The DNA doesn't give us a name, but it's also a match to a case in Virginia," Lindsay went on, flicking to the page and showing the team. "It was a match to saliva left on a glass of water in a double homicide. The victims names are Amanda Roths and James Olger."

Don nearly fell over from the discovery. The same guy who had killed Savannah's friends had now got her. "Oh no…that sonofabitch."

"Flack? Why, you know these people?" Hawkes asked curiously.

Mac cottoned on a little quicker as he looked at the photos in the report. "I've seen their faces before, these victims. Where have I seen them?"

"Savannah's cafe," Flack replied in a whisper, collapsing onto the nearest seat, darkening with anger as he remembered his lover's tears – tears he had brushed away the night she had told him about them. "Their pictures are right next to Jess's. They were Savannah's best friends and they were murdered just over a year ago. It's what prompted her to move to New York," he explained quietly.

Six faces stared at him, surprised at the information. Adam stammered, "She…she never said anything to any of us."

"She didn't like talking about it," Flack replied curtly, trying to shut that topic down.

"No wonder why she understood you," commented Danny. He then moved forward and squeezed his friend's shoulder comfortingly. "We're going to find this bastard, Don. We're going to save her."

If only Flack could have that high a hope.

He refused to look at the team. He didn't want to see their pity. He listened to them chatter about the evidence, trying to make sense of it all. The perp obviously had been tracking Savannah. But what had he been doing in the meantime? It had been over a year since the deaths, surely if Savannah was a target, why wait so long to ultimately kill her? The questions in his head echoed the ones put forth by the team. A lab tech came in, handing a folder over to Stella. She opened it and grinned. "I think we have a search area. The trace we found where the acceleration marks were is traces of ecstasy with a unique chemical signature. It originates from Harlem. We've also got a name. Eugene Urks. He might have dealt some to the killer."

Flack perked up, ready for action, but Mac's stony look stopped him. "Flack, you're too wired right now. You can't come with us."

"Come _on_," he cried out. "I'll go nuts if I don't do _somethin'_ Mac. This bastard has taken my girlfriend and is doing who knows what to her!"

"And last time you almost lost complete control," Mac replied sternly. He was unrelenting. "Go and cool off. When we actually find the guy, I promise that you'll be riding along with us. We're going to find her. We just need to be patient," he tried to placate, but knowing that Don wouldn't be calmed. Things were happening all over again.

Flack looked around for _some_ support, but found that none of the CSI's could look at him.

"Fine then," he said in a tone so sharp it could have cut through steel. "But if it turns out that the next time I see Anna is in the morgue…" he trailed off at the morbid thought, holding in his pain and spinning away. He ignored Mac and Danny's calls for him to stop, fury boiling just under the surface. He couldn't stand the fact of not knowing. As he marched back to the precinct, he tried to abate it, but worry was reaching out to all the corners of his mind, filling them, curling their evil tendrils around his thoughts. Anna had been gone six and a half hours now. He knew that it only took a split second to kill someone.

He avoided the bullpen, signing into the gun range. He grabbed a shotgun, leaving his service piece for later, and put on the protective headphones. He sighted down the line and just began firing away. Each time he pulled the trigger, he felt himself become slightly more numb. When he was done, he saw that the paper target looked like confetti on the ground. A detective two booths down was looking at him in a mixture of fear and awe. He stared at it, wanting vengeance. But more importantly, he wanted to find Savannah alive. And he could only do that if he went down the road of practicality and did his job. Flack knew he could only do that right if he had a clear head.

"You have to treat this as if it's just some random woman," he whispered to himself.

He put the shotgun away, signed out, and went to his desk.

Flack felt most of the eyes on him. They knew what had happened. And they all figured out that he was dating Savannah. There were some pitying looks, but he was surprised to see in the eyes of some of the other detectives a determination. He sat at his desk, immediately pulling up the case of Amanda and James, searching through the evidence and trying to ignore the whispers around him. Searching through it, he didn't find more than what Savannah had told him and what the CSI's had found. The only foreign DNA had been from a glass.

The murderer had killed two people and then had a glass of water. Why? To watch his handiwork, Flack supposed. Almost like seeing if the scene was to his satisfaction.

An idea hit him. What if…the killer had surveyed his work to make sure it looked right should another person see it? The next person being Savannah. Little pieces suddenly fell into place and his eyes widened. There was only one person he could think of in connection to all of this. Savannah's ex. Jake Wallace. What if he was behind the murders? What if he had been the one to kidnap her? After all, he had never been found after he battered her. Inspired, he typed in 'Jake Wallace' into the search engine.

His jaw dropped as the profile came up. Jake Wallace…was not Jake Wallace from the one picture Savannah had showed him a few days after she had told him about the sad tale. The only Jake Wallace from Hampton was a sixty year old plasterer. He quickly searched for those with known aliases for 'Jake Wallace.' He scanned the profile pictures until he saw the face.

There.

Jake Wallace was actually Theroux Hutch from Wisconsin, wanted for the murder of a seventeen year old six years ago.

Then why wouldn't his DNA be in the system?

Flack checked out the case, reading the particulars and almost wanting to shake whichever investigator in Wisconsin accidentally dunked the evidence in a tub of bleach before the DNA could be officially entered into CODIS.

Still, he felt like he was getting somewhere. This was the only lead he had, and he was going to run with it. Flack printed up the necessary documents, intending to rush back up to the lab. As he stood, he felt a presence behind him. He turned, seeing Captain Haplan standing there with Detective Graham. "Yes sir?" he asked respectfully, knowing that any attitude wouldn't get him far.

"Flack, I just want to say I hope you get the sonofabitch," his captain said quietly. "That girl…she's brought a new lease to every cop that walks through those doors of hers. You go get her. You go find the guy who took her. I'll make sure he will receive special attention from a judge when you find him."

"And when you catch him, count me in," murmured Graham. "Anna's like one of our own. And you never mess with one of New York's finest."

Flack felt right then and there the brotherhood that held the NYPD together. "You bet."

He looked around, seeing that every other detective that knew Savannah was nodding in agreement. They said nothing, but he knew they were all wishing him luck. He saluted his captain and rushed out, the familiar adrenalin of being on the trail of a suspect flooding him. As he went for his car, he heard a voice call him.

"Donnie!"

Flack whirled around, getting the surprise of his life to see his sister Sam hurrying towards him, his mother and father trailing after her. He demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I saw it on the news, Don. I saw that Anna person you like so much on the news, saying that if anyone had any information that they were to call the cops. I got mom and dad and drove right over," Sam replied. She then hugged him, her blue eyes looking frantic. "Don, I hope you find her. I never got to say sorry to her face…"

Flack didn't know what to say. His sister, his prickly reclusive sister, had come here to support him. "It means a lot, Sam," he mumbled. He then looked up at his parents. While he got his height and his blue eyes from his father, he shared a few more features with his mother, including the darker hair and smile. His father, Donald Flack Sr., stepped forward, looking grave. "We heard, son. So it's the girl you talked to us about? The one who became your friend?"

Don nodded slightly, his eyes in a far off place. "Yeah. Savannah's been taken. She means a lot to the cops and to my friends…and me."

"We can tell darling," Olivia Flack murmured, coming forward to embrace her son as well. "We've heard you cheer up in the phone calls. I wanted to meet her."

"You'll like her mom. I think you really will," assured the younger male Flack, thinking positively that they _would_ meet. He got a choked up feeling in his throat. His family had come all the way down here, just for this. Not even Jess's death could have gotten a response from Sam, although his parents were supportive. Heck, his _father_ who had washed his hands of his sister was now putting a supportive arm around Sam's shoulders. "I was planning to let you meet her in the next week, actually," he admitted.

Flack Sr., saw the expression and realised what had changed. He made eye contact with his son and nodded, acknowledging it.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" his mother asked.

Sadly, Don shook his head. "Not really. I have to run with a lead, but apart from that…I can't rest. I'll probably blow up if I even try to."

"Okay then darling," murmured Olivia, hugging him tight. "Just call if you need us."

"Will do."

* * *

Another four hours. And nothing.

Zilch.

Zero.

Zip.

Flack couldn't even eat his favourite Chinese takeout that was laid out in front of him in the conference room where the CSI's got together to go over the case. The smell of the food made him gag – his stomach was churning so hard in his nervousness. And he was feeling guilty. What if Wallace/Hutch wasn't feeding her? Savannah hated to miss a meal. He was exactly the same, but anxiety curbed the need.

Mac stood before them all, looking haggard from how hard they were working. "Let's go from the top. At approximately 5.30am Savannah left Flack's apartment to go home and pick up her things for the cafe. She gets back around 6am, exits the car and then she's ambushed, presumably knocked out from the lack of struggle. The perp tosses her bag into the hedge, bundles her into his getaway car and peels out of there. At approximately 7.30am, Flack makes his way there and discovers the kidnapping. We found the evidence of the epithelials on her bag we found at the scene, and they're a match to some unsolved robberies. We found the drug dealer, Eugene, and questioned him."

Stella took that as her cue. "He said that he's taken a step back from the business and let some, and I quote 'freaky haired white guy,' run the actual dealing. He said the guy's name was Ted."

"Could be short for Theroux," Hawkes pointed out.

"Right," agreed Stella. "Apparently this Ted guy showed up out of nowhere about three months ago, asking for a job so he could make some money. Eugene agreed, but he says that come to think of it, his profits have been slipping so he thinks that this 'Ted' has been pinching a few bills."

"No, really?" snorted Flack. "Gee, why would a stranger selling your drugs do that to you?"

The team shared a reluctant smile at Flack's quip. "We also know that the kidnapper has to be somewhere in West Harlem," Danny picked up where Stella left off.

"There's been no tips on the police hotline, so it appears as if the suspect made one trip straight from her apartment to the hiding place where he's got her," Lindsay added.

"I processed Anna's cell phone," Adam informed them. "It appeared as if the suspect checked to make sure she hadn't called anyone before smashing it. The epithelials match those from the bag. I didn't find anything else too telling on her phone. Just the usual stuff."

Flack wondered if the lab tech had accidentally looked at all the flirty texts he and Savannah had been sending each other. Would that be counted as 'usual stuff?'

"Now Flack, you think that Savannah's ex, Jake Wallace aka Theroux Hutch has taken her. But I've looked him up. He must have been laying low ever since her friends murders because there's not even a withdrawal from his bank account in the past two years under either name," Mac began. "I got Hawkes to go over the footage from the robberies and facial recognition software has confirmed that it is Wallace. There's no indication of where he's been."

"Probably found some nice rat infested abandoned building or space," Don said tersely. He shrugged. "There's at least thirty in the western parts of Harlem, and by the time we start searching each one, he could find out and move her…or…hurt her."

The rest of the group knew how hard it was for Flack to say it aloud. It sounded too concrete. Like it would happen.

"Any informants give you anything?" Stella asked.

"They must all have put their heads in the sand recently, because no one has been going around claiming they would kidnap a woman. I even spoke to Terrence. All he could say was that Eugene was handing over the dealing to another person," replied the tall detective, sighing. "I don't know if I should go and rattle the cages again, to see if I can coax out more information."

"Turn on the angry face, that might get them to spill," suggested Danny lightly.

"I want them to talk, not piss themselves with fear."

That got more hesitant smirks.

A knock at the door got their attention. A middle aged officer poked his head through. "I apologise detectives, but there's a young man demanding to see Detective Flack. He says that he's got really important information about the kidnapping."

That got everyone's attention.

"Bring him in," summoned Mac.

The tall, skinny form of Harper Bloc edged in, looking a bit suspicious. "Damn…this is nice," he remarked. He then set his sights on Flack. "Yo! Ah gotta tell ya, it was hard getting' through that security. Ah just want to tell ya, not any other cop. Don't know who to trust, see?"

"Bloc, what information do you have?" ordered Flack, and finally hope flared within him, bright and as fervid as a flame.

Bloc sat next to the detective, looking a bit nervous now. "Look…ya gotta keep the fact Ah tipped ya off quiet. Ah went through a lot of trouble for it. Yeah?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"Okay…well after Ah heard Miss Anna go missin', Ah left the cafe to Miss Jacks and went back to Harlem. When Ah was messed up in my Uncle's druggo ring, Ah'd hear a lot. Ah went back there just in case someone claim to get the girlfriend of a cop. My old buddy Ash tell me that a white guy called Ted has kicked 'em all out of the Dealer's Centre," Harper detailed, looking around and meeting their eyes honestly.

"What's the Dealer's Centre?" asked Don.

Bloc sighed and muttered, "Ya better keep it quiet Ah told ya. It's a place that's a part of a warehouse. The warehouse is legit, but we used to get the back of it every weekend to deal everything. Ya name it, we dealt it. But there were underground rooms we never used. Just used the ground floor, ya dig?"

Seeing the unimpressed looks on the detective's faces, Bloc cleared his throat. "Well Ash say that no one been in the Centre for over a month now. Bad for business. 'Ccordin' to him, he saw Ted's car rock up past his corner before headin' down to the warehouse. It was about seven this mornin'."

"Where is it?" Mac growled.

"It's called the Blue Jay Mechanics."

Immediately, they all stood.

"YO!" Bloc yelled. "Hold it! Ya gotta approach quiet like. We picked the place coz we can hear coppers over a mile away. Ya go in blazin' he'll kill ya girl. And Ah like Miss Anna for a boss."

"Alight, fine. We'll keep your involvement quiet," Flack replied brusquely. "Thanks for the help."

"That ain't all Ah can do. Ya put Ted in my Uncle's cell at Rikers, Ah can promise that he'll be given what for. Ah told my Uncle how nice Miss Anna is. He said that when he gets out that he'll protect her for bein' good to me," the young man offered.

Mac smirked. "We'll think about. Everyone, we've got Savannah to rescue."

The moment he found her couldn't come too soon for Don.

* * *

**A/N: I was planning the involvement of Harper Bloc in finding Savannah since the moment I introduced him in the chapter 'protective'/chapter 6. Yes, I've been planning this for that long. Well, I hope you found the tension there. I tried really hard to get that. Please tell me what you thought of the chapter.**

**Reviews are lovely!**


	28. Found

**A/N: You guys! Your feedback just lifts me higher! Smuffly, Leslie Emm, Kayla, SomeoneWhoCares and noaccounter. I'm so happy you are enjoying this arc. And here we have the chapter where she is found! How will it unravel? Find out. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing, mentions of violence.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 27 – Found **

* * *

_Sometimes everything is wrong  
Now it's time to sing along  
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)  
If you feel like letting go (Hold on)  
If you think you've had too much  
Of this life, well hang on_

**REM – Everybody Hurts**

* * *

Savannah was terrified. Oh, she didn't show it. But she was.

She hadn't eaten, but to prolong her agony, Wallace had eaten a pork and egg roll right in front of her around about 2pm. At least, that was what he had told her. He then gave her a bathroom break. He had untied her ropes for that moment, but had humiliated her by watching her while she used the facilities. One good thing that had come out of the trip was that there were shards of broken mirror everywhere. Wallace must have not cleaned up after smashing it. Savannah had praised the heavens above that Wallace was still a slob – it gave her the gift of a sharp piece of the reflective glass she had tucked inside her palm as her kidnapper retied her hands together. Another mistake he had made was not tying the ropes as tight as before. He was getting complacent, thinking she wouldn't attempt to escape because of her ankle, excited about the prospect of leaving.

According to him, he had made enough money to escape NYC and get through all the way to Mexico. When she had asked him just how she was going to comply with that, Wallace had shown her the bottle of chloroform. He would subdue her.

So it only gave Savannah a very short window to flee. She would have to do it while he was getting the fake ID's promised to him by some person in East Harlem.

A few more hours passed, the room she was in steaming hot from the lack of air flow. The brunette felt her hair stick to her skin from sweat, and she felt droplets of it bead and trail down her skin. It was humid this fall. And she hadn't been given any water either. Combined with her head injuries, Savannah would whimper every now and then, feeling dizzy and willing her concentration not to lapse.

All the while, she carefully sawed at the ropes with the shard from the mirror. Wallace had left about a half hour ago, and she felt safe enough to try and break free.

Savannah bit her lip and tugged against the rope, the bite of the material irritating against her wrists, the skin already rubbed raw from her struggles. "Come on," she muttered through clenched teeth. She sawed some more, wrenching her hands from side to side.

"Ow! Shit," she cursed, accidentally nicking her finger. Stubbornly, she hacked at the binding with the sharp glass.

_Snick._

Victory at last.

Almost sobbing in elation, Savannah twisted her wrists and found that the rope gave way just enough so she could slide her hands out of them. Her muscles screamed in protest, having been stuck in the same restrictive position for so long, but she ignored the ache, grouping it with all her other pains and trying not to think about it. She could feel pain _after_ she escaped. She sucked on the cut on her finger, soothing it a bit, before grabbing the glass and bending down, concentrating on getting free of the chair. It took her at least fifteen minutes, but she was free.

Shakily, cringing at the pain that overtook her once she stood on the fractured ankle, Savannah stood. She felt woozy, but as was her way, she stubbornly pushed it all away.

She had to get out. That was all that mattered.

Hopping awkwardly, the brunette made it to the door, her ears pricked for any noise that would indicate that Wallace was about to bear down on her and take her back to the chair. She opened it, pushing past, finding herself at the bottom of the stairs. Leaning against the handrail, she painstakingly made her way up the stairs, coming out on the ground floor. Off to the left was the bathroom she had used before. To her right was a hallway.

It was shadowed and little light came in through the high windows. She surmised that it was dusk.

The hallway felt like running a gauntlet. Savannah didn't know what was on the other end and it looked eerie. She shuddered, but it was the only way out. She trod as lightly as possible, keeping her moans of pain locked tight in her throat as she crept along. She couldn't hear anything, save for the sound of her own breathing.

She reached the end and looked out. More hallways, but bigger.

The sound of a car pulling up nearby jolted her into movement. She went towards the sound and canted her head to the side. She thought she heard…footsteps.

A door suddenly flew open and Wallace was on the other side, rifling through a bag. He was looking down, not having seen her.

It was now or never.

Hoping her dark clothes would hide her, Savannah edged backward the other way down the corridor, hoping that he wouldn't look up.

He didn't, but he turned to go down to her prison cell.

Knowing she would be found out soon, Savannah paused a few seconds to make sure he hadn't seen her and then turned, fleeing with all the spirit and strength left within her. She almost didn't feel her sore ankle as she sped down the hallway, the sound of her ragged breathing in her ears. She couldn't hear anything else, and it scared her. She didn't hear Wallace's bellow of rage, nor the sound of multiple cars pulling up outside the building. She just ran, tears of desperation clouding her vision.

She turned a corner, realising she shouldn't have as she saw Wallace charging right at her. Screaming, Savannah doubled back, hoping that she could be fast enough to go around and make it to the door before Wallace did.

* * *

They had a location, but it wasn't until 5.30pm that the CSI's and detectives were able to move out. They were making sure to do everything by the book – they wouldn't want Savannah's kidnapper to go free just because they had been rash.

Flack had been chomping at the bit, so to speak, the whole time, checking and rechecking his gun, keeping his cool by flicking through the photos on his phone of various outings that he and Savannah had been on. Just seeing her, even in the photos, were enough to keep him restrained. Seeing his partner so happy made him more determined than ever to see justice served. Among his favourites was the one where they were at the Knicks game and she had posed with a frozen Coke, and also another one where Danny had taken a photo of them in the stands, his arm around her. They were both smiling. Another one was of Savannah in her gardening clothes, some dirt streaking her face as she looked up at him, her hands framing a patch of soil. Not to mention the most innocent one of her relaxing on her picnic blanket that time they had gone to Central Park on a Sunday afternoon – she had worn a pretty white dress with little green birds, contrasting with her smile outlined in bright red lipstick. He recalled the stains on his face after he had kissed her a little enthusiastically and ended up smearing the makeup on the both of them.

Jiggling his foot in aggravated impatience, Flack felt the urge to just jump in the car and head to West Harlem right now, consequences be damned.

Mac finally came out of the PD, a warrant held securely in his hands, Detective Graham following after him. "Flack, we can go!" he announced.

Before they could blink, Flack was in his car, the motor running, yelling for them to stop being such slowpokes and get the hell in. The two men complied as he started off, leading a parade of four cars. Although they weren't needed, Stella, Lindsay, Danny, Hawkes, and even Adam were following in two of the four, all with their vests on just like everyone else. Two other cars were squad cars, just in case the suspect, Wallace, had an accomplice. Flack drove through the streets of Manhattan like a man possessed, but he did it expertly.

As they neared the western part of Harlem, he had a sudden feeling of urgency come over him. Savannah was still alive, he had a feeling, but if they didn't get there soon, Flack knew that it would be too late.

Mac and Graham were silent, letting him drive. They didn't offer words of caution or comfort, but he could feel their support, their ire just as clear as his own.

As he rounded the corner to the street, Don slowed down, approaching at a lesser pace. He wouldn't want to alert Wallace that they were onto them. It might make him do something stupid. He braked a building away and knew this was the place. This is where Savannah was. It was almost like he could feel her spirit. He ducked out of the car, impatiently waiting for the other cars to stop and their occupants to get out. Mac took charge.

"I want radio silence until Savannah is found. Be careful, we don't know if Wallace is armed. The uniforms will cover the perimeter, Adam and Sheldon, you'll stay here just in case. The rest of us will head inside and search the premises," the lead CSI directed firmly.

"What if the bastard uses Anna as a human shield?" asked Danny.

"We do whatever we can to free her," Don replied quickly. "Let's do this."

They were all checking their ammo and the uniforms, about to move in when a sudden scream broke the quiet of the dusk.

Flack froze.

That was Savannah's scream.

He lurched forward only to have Danny and Mac hold him back. "Don't charge in there man!" the younger of the two warned. "We gotta go by the book, remember?"

Don didn't particularly care. Not when Savannah had sounded so terrified. "I gotta get to her," he muttered, pushing against the hands that grabbed him. "We gotta get her."

"We will, we just-"

Mac broke off as the heavy metal entrance door was suddenly flung open with a bang, and the stricken form of Savannah stumbled out, almost delirious. She didn't even see them, running out, looking backwards and falling to the ground. Don saw her, a jumble of emotions swelling up in him, relief prominent. In that moment, ten men couldn't have held him down and he roughly pushed his friends away, tearing off towards her. "Savannah!" he yelled.

Bleary grey eyes looked up and saw him. She attempted to rise, her hand reaching out for him. "Don," she croaked.

Don slid to his knees in front of her, checking her over as if he had just walked through the desert and she was the first drink of water. He saw the red and bloody wrists, the swollen ankle, and the bruises on her porcelain skin, but he didn't give a shit. She was beautiful to his eyes. Without a word, he showed his strength and scooped her up, feeling her gasp and shudder in his arms as he strode back to the line of cars. "I got you…I got you babe," Don whispered to her, gently squeezing her, too happy that they found her _alive_ to care about showing his more affectionate side in front of everyone else.

"I knew you'd come," she replied, her voice hoarse from her scream and lack of water. "You are too gallant not to. My knight in a shining police car."

"That's right," affirmed Don, turning to press a kiss to her head while Anna slumped in his arms, exhausted. "You had us so worried."

"I thought you would. I'm sorry-"

"Don't you dare apologise," Flack scolded her quietly. "It's not your fault. Could never be your fault Savannah."

"Where's Wallace?" Savannah asked suddenly, looking back at the door. "He was chasing me."

Flack frowned, looking back as well, only to see a figure make it to the doorway, see the force that had showed up…and flee. He was torn now. Stay with his lover, or go after the fuckhead that took her? He made his decision. "Mac!" he called out. "Wallace is running! Quick, get after him, I'll take care of her."

Mac and the other detectives quickly took off, shouting 'NYPD!', racing for the building to capture Wallace before he could get away. Flack and Anna watched them, Anna feeling some anxiety lessen as she watched them go after her enemy. They made it behind the barrier of cars, Don carefully setting her on the bonnet of his while Sheldon and Adam crowded around, the doctor using the lab tech as a gopher for medical supplies. He didn't let go of her hand the whole time while the two tended to her injuries.

"Hey, guys…I don't feel too good," Savannah murmured, raising a hand to her head.

Sheldon quickly took her pulse, finding it too erratic. It would be because of the shock. "Just breathe," advised the former ME, carefully tending to the fractured ankle.

A commotion from the side of the building made Flack pull his gun again, stepping in front of the other three like a blockade. He concentrated on the noises. He heard Mac shouting, and them some demented laughter that made his skin crawl. Suddenly, Wallace ran into view, waving a knife in the air, coming towards them. He hadn't realised he had accidentally ran back to the entrance. He saw Flack standing there, foreboding and dangerous, and slowed, sneering.

"Stop right there Wallace," Flack ordered.

Wallace just grinned, waving the knife again.

Savannah whimpered.

"Don't you move! Don't you dare move!" the taller man barked, cocking his gun threateningly.

"Do it, copper. Come on, shoot me," Wallace mocked. "It'll make you feel so good, won't it? Make you feel all manly for protecting your girl, huh?"

"Shut up!"

"I don't think I will."

Don growled, hoping that Mac would come around the corner and just arrest the jackass already. "You've lost, Wallace," he said.

"Have I?" the knife wielding man asked, demented smile widening. "What about the nightmares she's gonna have…that's going to be fun."

Flack felt his trigger finger itching for movement. Just to cause him pain.

"Don…it's not worth it. He's not worth it. Just let him rant and rave, it won't save him from jail. He's just a piece of trash," Savannah said from behind him. Strong through her pains. Her voice was a balm. "He's a piece of elephant shit."

Flack breathed heavily and nodded, but kept his gun trained on the bastard until Mac, huffing and puffing, came up behind Wallace and slapped the handcuffs on him. Satisfied, he turned to the woman that had made this all worth it, asking, "You ok?"

Savannah nodded, but her pale face just got ashen with every second that passed. "Water…please," she whispered. "My head…" her grip loosened on Flack's hand and she slumped forward, eyes closing, Don barely catching her.

"We gotta get her to the hospital," ordered Flack, picking her up into his arms again.

"I'll drive," volunteered Adam. "Hawkes can stay if someone else is hurt."

The tall detective looked dubious, but seeing Savannah unconscious in his arms made him give in. His worry about her overrode his worry about letting Adam drive his car. "Fine," he said, pressing the keys into the lab tech's hand. "Get us to Queen of Mercy." He got into the backseat of his car, strapping him and Anna in securely. "You do know how to drive, right?"

"Chill, Flack…I've played Need for Speed Underground so many times, I'm practically an expert."

"That does not assure me," Don replied sardonically. However, the light joke made him feel better as Adam drove through the heart of Manhattan. The kid wasn't too bad a driver either, giving him the time to focus on an ailing Savannah. He took her in more clearly. Her face, even unconscious, showed that she was hurting. She had been gone almost 12 hours – it looked like she had no food or water in that whole time, and it had been hot that day. Wherever she was held must have zapped the strength and hydration from her. She also looked like she had a concussion. His large hands gentle, he slid a hand through her messy curls and felt for any injury. He found a large lump and winced sympathetically. He also traced his fingers over the bruises on her face. He also noticed that her shirt had ridden up and he glimpsed a spot of purple. He then pushed the fabric up, growling low in his throat upon seeing the big bruise discolouring her abdomen. Now he wished that he had stayed and given Wallace a little roughing up – claiming, of course, that he had fallen down some stairs.

"Whoa…dude, you are so scary when you do that," Adam remarked nervously.

"Just drive. That retard hurt her so much."

"Mac has him Flack. He's like that guy from the movie 'Taken.' He will find you, no matter what and make you pay, sorta thing," Adam said, trying to lighten the detective's mood.

That made Flack snort while he tugged Anna's shirt down again. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

"I'm just glad we found her. I mean, she's so nice to me. I've never had anyone be so nice to me straight away – at least not without them calling me a geek or a nerd or something," the lab tech blathered on.

Don just gazed at Savannah. He took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it. Suddenly, he was glad for the shy Adam then. He wasn't freaking out or assuring him that it would all be alright. He was just being himself, and that meant a lot. He looked up, noticing that they were almost to the hospital. Relief, pure and sweet, filled Flack. He realised that as soon as Savannah had been in his arms, safe, he hadn't really cared about going after Wallace after that. Oh, he was still pissed, but it could wait. His number one priority was the comatose looking woman settled in his lap.

Adam jerked the car into the drive marked 'emergency.' As soon as the car stopped, Flack got out of there like a bat out of hell with Savannah in his arms. "Thanks Adam!" he called over his shoulder.

"Don't worry! I'll let Mac know where you are!"

Don didn't have time to answer. He was already in emergency.

* * *

**A/N: Shorter, but definitely more action packed. Next chapter…why isn't Don at Savannah's bedside? Tell me what you think ;) and if the rescue was to your satisfaction. I appreciate all those who continue to review, favourite, and follow – I couldn't have done it without you. **


	29. Breathing Again

**A/N: Thank you so much! SEVEN REVIEWS! SEVEN! EEEEEE! Thank you to Smuffly, Forest Angel, Kayla, noaccount, SomebodyWhoCares, Leslie Emm, and Chanel for your amazing feedback. Keep it up guys it encourages me through this trying exam time.**

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 28 – Breathing Again**

* * *

_I'm asking for your help  
I am going through hell  
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice_

**Maroon 5 – How **

* * *

Sheets that smelled like starch. Sterilisation in the air. The beep of a heart monitor.

Savannah groaned as she woke up. She knew immediately she was in the hospital. At least, if the soft cotton pants were anything to go by, she was in her own clothes.

At least she felt no pain. Thank God for painkillers! She struggled to open her eyes, the glaring whiteness of the hospital room lights lancing through her eyelids. She grumbled, wanting to see where she was. The last thing she remembered was Don's stressed face. Then, the light dimmed. Oh. Good.

"That better?"

Savannah's lids snapped open at the voice. It wasn't overly familiar, but she had heard it before. Through her blurry vision that began to clear, she was a little disappointed to see that it wasn't Don at her bedside, but instead another Flack had come to visit. Samantha Flack was looking at her curiously, as if trying to figure out why she was there. "Uh…hi. I know we've only met once," Sam said.

"Hey Sam. Good to see you," Savannah replied politely. She smiled (although fearing it came off as a grimace due to her bruises) at the other woman to make her feel more at ease. "What brings you here?"

Sam cleared her throat. "Don asked me to watch over you. He said that he'd have been here but that he had a quick errand to run. I think it's just a few formalities on your kidnapper or something."

"Oh," Savannah murmured. That made sense. While she was here, she might as well make some conversation with Sam. "Do you happen to know anything? About my injuries or…well, anything? How long have I been out for?"

"I think you've been out for a while. It's 11am in the morning – my brother found you last night."

Wow. That was a long time. Savannah frowned. "Would you happen to know why?"

"The doctors said you were really dehydrated and that you had a mild concussion. Apart from that, I wouldn't know. I've only been here for a few hours." Sam paused, fiddling with the AA medallion that she always kept with her now. "I also want you to know that I want to thank you Savannah. When we met…I was a little bitchy, and you didn't deserve it. I wasn't receptive to good advice. When I found out that you were kidnapped, all I kept thinking was that I never got the chance to tell you that I regretted how I acted."

"It's okay, it really is," the curly haired woman replied. "I can't judge you for that."

Sam smiled then. "You really are something, you know that? Don told you about me a little, right?"

"Only that you were having some trouble dealing with family issues. He mentioned that you and your father haven't spoken in a while."

"Yeah. I wanted to let you know that I thought about what you said to me that day. I thought about it for a long time. And when my parents came back from their cruise, I went to them. I took your advice, and for the first time in three years I spoke to my father like he was my dad again. That was all due to you, Savannah. I grew up, I actually did something about it. Because of you," Sam confessed quietly, but was wearing a smile. "And I can so understand why my brother is so head over heels for you."

Savannah smiled back. "I wouldn't say 'head over heels' but-"

"I would," interrupted the blue eyed woman.

"Really?"

"Anna…I have never seen Donnie like this. When I first met you, I was surprised that he told you so much in front of me. And he doesn't tell anyone _anything_. I've never seen him so relaxed when he's away from work," Sam pointed out. "At work, he's like this total attack dog, but now when I saw him away from it, he's different…like we were when we were kids." She paused, turning the medallion over in her hands. "When he looks at you, there's this look in his eyes I've never seen before. I'm telling you, he'll be fixing to introduce you to the parents any day now," Sam replied emphatically. She reached out and squeezed Savannah's hand. "And I would be all too glad to have you in my family. I want to be friends. I think you'd be cool."

Savannah felt like glowing right then and there. In spite of her ordeal, in spite of the fact she was banged up and bruised, something great had come out of it all. The uniting of a family. "I would like that," she said.

"It's nice to see you both getting along."

Savannah glanced up, a grin stretching across her face. "Don," she murmured warmly. He was in casual clothes and looked like a load had been taken off his shoulders. He didn't look frantic or worried, which in her book meant that everything was going to be just fine.

Sam suddenly felt like a third wheel. "I'll leave you both to it then," she said, getting up and moving to her brother, hugging him. "Take care of you."

"Take care of you," replied Flack, patting Sam on the back. "I'll see you soon."

Sam peeked back at the figure on the bed. "You definitely will. Get better soon."

"I will."

Nodding, Sam left, a content smile on her face.

Don watched until his sister was out of sight before going into the hospital room and closing the door behind him. "Hey you," he murmured fondly, taking the chair Sam had just vacated and grasping Savannah's hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got kidnapped and rescued. I'm pretty sure that's not a usual feeling, but that's life," Savannah joked weakly. Seeing her favourite pair of blue eyes dart a look over her in concern, she went on, "I just woke up, but I feel fine. I don't feel any pain, at least. Not in my ankle, or my head."

He seemed satisfied by this although his fingers trailed up to trace over the raw skin where the ropes had been. He seemed pensive, thoughtful. Savannah chose not to interrupt his thinking. She felt like if she did then it wouldn't go well for her. Those slightly coarse fingers were tender in their exploration of the red marks, and then they travelled up her arm and to her face, sketching the lines of her bruises. Affirmation and relief that she was alive emanated from the simple touches and Savannah sighed. However, curiosity tugged at her and she asked, "Where did you go?"

Don seemed to close off and he didn't meet her eyes although he continued to massage over her delicate skin. "To let off some steam with a punching bag and other stuff. I…I…um went back to the warehouse last night while the doctors were stabilising you. I saw the room you were in," he muttered darkly. He seemed to be struggling with seeing the conditions she had been in. "Hell, it would have been safer if he had left you in a sauna it was that hot. I saw the mirror piece on the floor and the bit of blood on it. And the ropes. Hell Savannah, how the heck did you manage to keep lucid enough to escape?" the detective wondered aloud, expressing his trouble. His eyes finally found hers again, the conflicting emotions all too clear. "It's…honestly, it's frickin' incredible."

"I had a good teacher," Savannah replied quietly. "I just remembered all you taught me. You were really the cause of my determination."

"You're so relaxed about this," observed her partner.

"Must be the pain meds – I have a feeling they'll wear off soon," the brunette said with a slight smile.

"And what about when they do wear off?" Don eventually asked after a pause.

"Then I'll have you."

That made Don smile, and he caressed her cheek. "Yeah. You will."

Savannah felt she could finally breathe properly after that. "I was so scared that he would take me away. And regardless of all the self-defence work we've done, I've never felt so…unable to assert myself," she admitted.

"That's normal," Flack replied. "I was the same. Unable to do…anything."

"But you found me," she whispered, the purest affection in her tone. "What it must have put you through, Don. I think I worried just as much for you as I did for me."

"I hated it, but I can't think of the ifs, ands, or buts now. It turned out for the best – even if it gave me a heart attack at the time," he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her hand. "I'm just over the moon that you're safe. Everyone wanted to be here, but the hospital nurses were a bit grumpy over the fact that there were about fifteen people waiting around for you."

"That many?!"

"Well, there was me, Sam, Mac, Stella, Danny, Lindsay and Lucy, Adam, Hawkes, Sid, Detective Graham, Jacks, your Aunt Emilie, and I think Chief Sinclair stopped by at one point to see how we all were. He was very upset at the fact that the maker of his favourite tarts had been abducted. And I think he was also there to tell everyone to get back to work as well – they gave me a few days off though," Don rattled off, amused at the look of incredulous expression on his girlfriend's face. "No joke. And just to prove it, here, a little something from Lucy." He then took a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket, holding it out.

A choked sob escaped Savannah as she opened the paper to see a little blue handprint with words in Lindsay's elegant hand. "_To Anna, hoping you get better soon to make more choc chip cookies. Love Lucy and the Messers,"_ she read aloud, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasped, emotion finally breaking the rigid boundaries of her control. A few tears rolled down her cheeks when presented with just how many people she mattered to.

"Remember what I said about not having to be strong all the time in front of me?" Don reminded cautiously.

Savannah tried to suck it in, but realised that he was right. Feeling like a defenceless child, she held out her arms, shuddering as not even pain medication could repress all the panic and terror she had felt at Wallace's hands. The fear of not knowing. The remembered fear of her abuse, of her friends murders. "I'm trying so _hard_, Don," she mumbled tearfully as her lover picked her up off the bed and settled her back on it, embracing her in his arms. She fed off his silent stoicism, sobbing in that soft, distraught way.

"I know, baby, I know," soothed Don. "It's okay. I'm here."

He wished that he could take away that pain. Just like he had wished someone had taken his own away. All he could do was make her comfortable and hold her hand, support her head as she curled up into him. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he said, "You, Savannah Cormier, are one of the strongest women I'll ever know."

"And you, Don Flack, are the most wonderful man I'll ever know," Savannah replied, calming. She exhaled, the tears ebbing as the feeling of security overtook her like it always did while in Don's arms.

"Speaking of all things wonderful," he mentioned, hoping to make her feel a bit better, he pulled out the other reason why he had gone on an errand. It was a jewellery box, and he opened it, showing the silver chain necklace. "I was going to get you this on the morning you were taken and give it to you last night, as an early birthday present or something. I think you'll like it."

Wiping her eyes clear of any remaining wetness, Savannah took in the gleaming silver chain and the amethyst teardrop pendant on the end. "Oh wow," she breathed, taking it out of his hands. She carefully touched the pendant, marvelling at the colour – every manner of happy feeling suddenly willing her up with warmth and chasing away the residual sadness. "You didn't have to, and I know you wanted to, so thank you sugar. You just affirmed my earlier statement," she said, taking the necklace out of the box and holding it up to the light. Silently, Don reached for it, unclipping the clasp and fastening it around her neck.

"It suits you."

"You have good taste," Savannah noted, and then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"So I'll take that as 'I do like it,'" Flack said.

"I'm not going to take it off except for showers now."

Don liked the thought of seeing the necklace he bought her on her neck every day. "Good," he murmured, hugging her. "You know, when your doctor comes by again, he'll be able to discharge you. We can go home soon Anna. And we can relax and do whatever we need to put this experience past us."

"I agree. Besides some Advil, all the prescription I'll need is a healthy dose of Don morning, noon and night," she deadpanned.

"Cute."

"You make me feel better every time," Savannah informed him sincerely. "I snap out of whatever funk I'm in faster."

They sat there, content to bask in the other's presence, until her doctor finally made his rounds. The portly man looked disapprovingly at their position, but could tell by the stubborn looks in both sets of eyes that they would roast him over hot coals if he even mentioned it. "Ms. Cormier. Good to see you awake, I am aware you are to be discharged," he said, checking his clipboard. "When you leave the hospital, you must keep your fluid intake high for the next week to stabilise your body due to the dehydration. Also, you must be aware you must come back to get the cast off your ankle in three weeks or less. The good news is that your ankle isn't actually broken – although it must have felt like it I'm sure. No, it is just a severe sprain and far less serious. After that, we have some rehabilitation exercises for your ankle. Until then…it is crutches."

It was sweet victory to know that at least that injury hadn't been serious. But at the thought of crutches, Savannah cringed.

"Other than that, the bruises will fade eventually. Just remember to rub the bruise salve on them – you can get it at any other pharmacy," the doctor blathered on. He scribbled something down on his notepad. "I'll just fetch a wheelchair and you'll be free to go."

"Thank you," Savannah called after him gratefully.

"Crutches, huh? Maybe you and Danny can compare a cane to crutches." Don made the light quip knowing Anna would appreciate it.

"Don't tempt me. He'll probably want to race on them and challenge me to beat his time."

"On second thought-"

Savannah giggled at Don's expression in realising he had given her a bad idea. "I won't do it, but I can't promise Danny won't be a big kid and do it anyway. He and Adam will probably have crutch races."

"They better not."

"If they do, just make sure you film it in case they stack it. One can never have too much blackmail material," mused Savannah, her hand coming up to touch her new necklace, marvelling at the consideration that had gone into the gift. The impulse, strong and demanding, to murmur the three words she had been thinking for months now was there. All she had to do was open her lips and let Don know the extent of her feelings for him.

"Here we go," the doctor announced as he returned, opening up the wheelchair. "Get in Ms. Cormier, and you can make your way home."

Nodding, Savannah slid off the bed, ignoring Don's gesture to help – telling him he wasn't going to be around all the time for three weeks and she had to do some things by herself – and lowered herself down into the chair, feeling a little dizzy. Flack huffed in exasperation, but knew that she would never change. She was too independent. It was what he liked about her and frustrated him as well.

They travelled down to the main reception, signing the necessary paperwork and inheriting a pair of crutches before Flack pushed Savannah to his car and dropped her in, giving her a slight smile. He then nodded to the doctor and got in, heading to Savannah's apartment.

When they got there, the detective helped his girlfriend up the short steps and to her apartment.

"You know, for once I'm really, really glad I've got a ground floor apartment," the brunette remarked as Don took her keys from her and opened her door.

"My place has got an elevator."

"Your building also has 20 floors and no rooftop garden," she pointed out.

"It's the lack of garden that bugs you," stated Don, guiding her inside with a wry grin.

"I'm used to greenery."

"Not saying it's a bad thing," he replied. He took her bag and placed it on its hook on the coat rack, turning and feeling a little lost as to what to do. Savannah was staring at him as if he was Superman. He didn't feel like that. He felt too lucky. He had almost lost another lover. "Want to watch a movie?" he offered to break the bit of tension build up.

Savannah shook her head. "I'm tired. I'm just emotionally exhausted."

"Again, not a bad thing. C'mon, let's get you some rest," Don murmured. He followed her to the bedroom, turning down her sheets and settling her there.

"Stay?"

"Wild horses and crazies couldn't pull me away," he replied with a smile, shucking his shoes and socks and climbing in next to her. He had a need to hold her, to feel her, tangible in his arms. Savannah made a sound of happiness and cuddled up to him, being careful not to agitate her ankle in its cast. "I'm so happy you're safe," Don affirmed.

"So am I, Don, so am I," Savannah whispered. She looked up into his blue eyes, seeing the weariness caused by her abduction and the all too consuming relief and tenderness and passion that resided deep within the emotive depths. Her heart swelled, and she took the moment.

She had to let him know.

"Don?"

"Yeah Savannah?"

Savannah blinked, gulped, and then confessed softly, "I love you."

Don looked down, seeing pink bloom prettily across her features, but her eyes were open so he could see the stark naked truth in their depths. He saw everything he ever wanted. Instead of replying, he tilted his head forward until their mouths touched in a soft tender kiss that filled up his soul full of love. He clasped her tighter, accepting the sincere, deeply felt words.

"You don't have to say it back," reassured Savannah gently. "I know that you don't like labelling things. But I had to let you know. I had to let you know how much I felt for you, because yesterday I almost didn't get the chance to."

"I care about you deeper than I've ever cared about anyone before," Don replied. He was relieved that his lover understood him that much – not to pressure him, knowing that he would admit to his own feelings in his own time.

"And that's all I'll ever need," she whispered, clinging to him and closing her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Another shorter one, but I didn't think it needed to go any further. These guys have been through a lot. **


	30. Emotional Connection

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone's input. Smuffly, Kayla, SomebodyWhoCares, Chanel, and noaccounter, the fact you guys continue to review is awesome and assures me I'm on the right track. I won't know otherwise. Also, because a few were anon, I'll answer your comments:**

**Kayla: **I know, right? I wish I had a boyfriend like him too :D

**Chanel**: Thank you very much!

**Noaccounter:** Yes, we do see Sam again, in the next chapter actually.

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 29 – Emotional Connection**

* * *

_And I want to wake up with the rain  
Falling on a tin roof  
While I'm safe there in your arms  
So all I ask is for you  
To come away with me in the night_  
**Norah Jones – Come Away with Me**

* * *

When Savannah woke that next morning, she felt fresh again, as if washed of all the terrible things in the world. The reminders lingered, but at least she didn't feel like collapsing with grief. She raised her head, smelling bacon. She smiled. Don had stayed. Unfortunately, waking also brought throbbing to the sore spots in her head and ankle. She groaned, slowly levering herself up so she could get to the Advil someone had thoughtfully placed on her bedside table.

Soft footsteps came down the hallway and soon Don was in her room. "Morning," he greeted, coming to sit on the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a rock. It was great," replied Savannah genuinely.

Don's mouth tipped up fondly. "Good. I noticed that you didn't have nightmares last night, which is a plus."

"Oh, they'll come around eventually."

"Like a bad boomerang," quipped Don.

"Exactly," nodded Savannah. She then sniffed the air. "What is that you're making? It smells good."

"What I made you last time for breakfast. Eggs Benny," replied Don with a confident smirk. "I remember just how much you liked it that morning."

"There were a few other things that were enjoyable that morning as well," teased Savannah. She then gestured to the ankle that was wrapped in a cast. "Things we won't be able to do for a few weeks."

"Was that doctors orders?"

"No, but that cast will definitely get in the way."

"Where's that imagination of yours? A cast is a nothing obstacle, trust me. All you need is a little ingenuity and a lot of patience…" Don murmured teasingly, his eyes flashing with humour and desire. Seeing his lover's skeptical look, he went on, "I can be very, very inventive if you let me, when the time is right for you."

"I look forward to it," Anna challenged, feeling a little thrill all the way down her spine. Her stomach also took that time to growl. Loudly.

"Whoa," they both remarked, looking at her stomach.

Don sniggered. "Looks like we have to feed the beast."

He helped the brunette to her table, proudly placing his favourite dish in front of them. As they ate, the blue eyed detective proposed, "I've got an idea. Why don't I stay here until that cast comes off? Or you could stay at mine, it's no big deal."

"Why? I don't want to pressure you into anything or make you do anything you don't want to," she replied tactfully.

"Because I want to. You're my girl, Anna. If my actions a few days ago weren't enough to show you how far I would go to protect you, I don't know what will," Don reasoned pointedly. "I don't want you to be alone. I won't feel crowded. In fact, it's kind of a selfish thing for me. I want to know where you are so I know you're safe."

"Well when you put it that way…" she smiled back. "Yeah. If you want to, you can stay here. I think here would be better because I've also got Aunt Emilie here just in case. But I'm letting you know now that I'm going to go stir-crazy if I have too many days from work off. I will be going back to the cafe," she warned him. "Even if I do nothing but sit at the til all day."

"Fair enough," he agreed. "Just don't strain yourself."

Savannah snorted, but inclined her head in agreement.

Flack then took care of everything, leaping into it with his usual proactive nature. He left to pack a suitcase from his own apartment while Savannah kept herself entertained by watching Jamie Oliver's Ministry of Food. At his apartment, Flack chucked a few suits into his suitcase for work, adding some of his more inventive ties (Anna loved the so called 'fugly' ones), and some casual clothing as well. Enough for a week – he could always come back for more clothing. He also added his laptop, a backpack and a few hats along with a few more personal effects like his guns and photos. He chuckled as he checked the locks on his windows and doors. It was like packing for a holiday, but within your own city. Don felt no qualms about living in Anna's apartment for a while. His protective nature wouldn't have let him rest if he hadn't offered. With one last look around his apartment, Don smiled, finally realising that the saying that 'the home is where the heart is' was all too true. His place had only felt more like a home when Savannah was there.

He couldn't care less where he laid his head. As long as Savannah was there too.

* * *

"I thought we were going to spend the day relaxing."

"We were. Until Mac sent me a text on the way back. He said that he really wanted to see you, make sure you're okay with his own eyes."

Savannah hummed in thought. She could understand that. Mac really was like a father figure to her, and it would be nice to see him more naturally instead of caught up in the intensity of trying to rescue her. "So we're heading to the Lab?"

"Yep."

Savannah relaxed back into the comfortable car seat then, watching the sights of New York go by. She was glad, really. She had wanted to thank all of her friends for their selfless actions, taking up lab resources and their time to come and find her and her tormentor. Looking down at her wrists, she saw that the red marks had faded slightly overnight. She hadn't even looked in the mirror this morning, not wanting to see how bad the blows on her face were. Her musing was broken into by Don's fingers, carefully threading through her own and squeezing. Although he didn't look away from the road, he could tell that Anna needed the contact.

They arrived and headed up to the 35th floor. Flack made a joke again about how he should shield her from Danny and Adam should they want to borrow her crutches. It got the brunette to smile again.

Don led Savannah out, frowning when he couldn't see Mac in his office. He quickly looked around, and was puzzled not to see any of the core team. Not even Adam. Which was weird because he practically made the lab his home.

"Where are they?" Savannah picked up on the absences too.

"I don't know…Mac said that he'd definitely be here."

"Do they have any rooms that aren't made out of glass? Maybe they are all there, and that's why we can't see them," she wondered aloud, looking up at Don.

An inkling of what might be going on popped into the detective's mind, but he hid the smirk and replied, "There's one conference room. It's just around the corner here," he muttered. As they approached, he could see a light quickly flick off, and he was sure he just saw Danny's face disappear from behind a blind. Ah, so that's what those sneaky CSI's were planning. Don made sure to keep his expression smooth as to not tip Anna off. She was too perceptive. He walked up and knocked, calling, "Hey Mac, you in there?"

"Yes. Come on in Flack," came the reply.

As he opened the door, Don guided Savannah in first, and she said, "Mac, what's with the creepy dark thing?"

Light flooded the area then, many different voices shouting, "Surprise!"

Savannah jumped back, almost dropping her crutches and then laughing, loud and joyous. "You guys!" she exclaimed as the CSI's descended on her, Sheldon and Danny sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to the seat at the head of the table. She cried out in astonishment as she took in the spread of food laid out on the table and the crowd of people in the room. She locked eyes with Don. "Were you in on this?"

"Only in the last five seconds," he replied, grinning back at her.

She had been subdued all morning, and to see her suddenly uplifted and positive made Don more assured than he had been last night. Savannah bounced back relatively quick, but this seemed to be the kick start she needed. He hung back and watched as Stella and Lindsay came forward with a big wrapped box, depositing it in Savannah's lap. She lit up so much it was like she glowed, coming alive in such a big way. Sid then leaned down with a plate, showing her the Lithuanian pastries that he learned from his grandmother. Adam and Mac sat on either side of her, Mac grasping her hands and telling her that he was glad she was safe, and Adam saying that he brought his Xbox360 to the lab so they could play it today. "Just so I can show you the awesome driving skills that got you to the hospital," the lab tech justified with a nervous grin.

The cafe owner just giggled, nodding, before tearing into the box on her lap. She gasped at the contents, filling through them and said happily, "You got me products from Lush! Shower gel…sugar scrub, roll on perfume, soaps…Stella and Lindsay, you guys are the best."

Stella just smiled back. "We thought you might need something to help with the relaxation."

"I use their dream cream for my hands after a long day. It's so good," enthused Lindsay, pointing it out.

Savannah was overwhelmed. "You guys…you are all so fantastic," she murmured, looking around at them all. "But really…are you all trying to make me cry? Thank you so, so much. I am so proud to have you as my friends. I am so very touched."

"No, Anna. It is us that are honoured to have you as a friend," Mac replied with a smile.

"You're turning me to mush," she laughed, leaning over and hugging the lead CSI tight.

"We like seeing you mushy. How else are we going to keep you in a good mood to get the best food in the world?" Danny joked.

Looking around at the diverse range of foods, Savannah gestured to it all and said, "Looks like you guys aren't too shabby yourselves."

"No, we're not," Sheldon chipped in, grabbing a plate and also holding it before her. "My specialty is making dumplings." The rest of the group then pandered to her like she was the queen, sharing around the food and celebrating her health. Flack stayed out of the spotlight, instead carefully watching his partner to see when she tired. He knew, more than most, how Savannah would hide things and push herself to the limit. He hoped that he would catch her before she began to falter. Many times, her sparkling grey-green eyes would meet his, as if to invite him closer, but Don was content to let her get all the attention. He knew that the team needed to reassure themselves that she was here, safe with them – just like he needed to do the same last night by holding her close.

After an hour of socialising (and Adam beating everyone at Need for Speed), one of the lab techs timidly asked for Stella, telling her that the results for a case were in. The Grecian woman expressed her regret that she had to leave, but assured Anna to call if she ever needed anything. The impromptu party wound down after that, with Sid needing to go back to the morgue and with everyone needing to go out to crime scenes or tend to the evidence. Mac was the last to go, giving Flack a pointed look to leave the room so he could talk to the young woman alone.

Once the taller man left, Mac turned his focus on Savannah. "Did you have fun today?"

"I did, Mac. Thanks for setting it up. And letting us mess up your conference room too."

Mac waved it off. "It's no problem. I just wanted to show you just how many people really do care about you. We wanted to see you in the hospital, but we couldn't."

"I know," the brunette woman replied gratefully. "Don told me that the nurses got a little cranky."

"A little? I think they were going to start throwing bedpans at us," said Mac, eliciting a snicker from Anna. "But what I really wanted to tell you was if you are having any trouble, we're all here for you. And that's particularly true when Wallace goes to trial. I heard that because of the fact that he pissed off so many cops by taking their favourite proprietor from the Comfort Cafe that they want to begin the trial process a bit earlier than usual. In a month."

"That soon? Wow."

"Yeah. The DA is gunning for it because of the severity of his crimes and because he has a talent for hiding once escaped," Mac went on.

"Good. I want to see justice served," Savannah stated, and then hugging Mac once more. "You're the best."

"Am I really? I thought Don was," the older man teased lightly.

Savannah blushed. "Yes, he is. But he's kinda in a different category."

"That's good. I'm happy that the both of you seem to be on the mend from everything," Mac said sincerely. He then patted her on the back and rose, fetching her crutches so she could stand unaided. "You focus on getting better."

"I think I've made that promise about a hundred times in the past two days," Savannah replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Well one more time."

"I promise."

They went to the door where Don was waiting, looking a little bored. He smirked when he saw her. "What little evil plan were you planning with Mac in there, Cormier?"

"World domination through cupcakes. The usual," she bantered back, striding forward. "Got the box?"

Don held up the box of spa products and the leftover food in answer. They both said their goodbyes and headed back to the apartment.

* * *

That night, Don was trying out his domestic skills in the kitchen and waiting for Savannah to get back from her Aunt's apartment. He had encouraged her to go talk to Emilie and Jacks, get some tough stuff over with and make the transition back to normal life easier. Besides, both women had been so worried about her as well and needed to spend time with her. However, he began to get suspicious when he was about to finish off the soup he had thrown together and she still wasn't back.

The recent scare with her kidnapping made him turn everything off and go upstairs to Emilie's apartment. He knocked briskly, hoping it would be Savannah that would open the door.

It was Jacks.

Seeing the concerned expression on his face, Jacks rolled her eyes and pointed upwards. "I'm guessing my cousin forgot to tell you she was going up to the garden for a little bit. Don't worry, it's unlocked. Mama wouldn't let her take the key."

"You're a mind reader."

"No. I just know that's what I would be doing if I were in your shoes," the short woman shrugged. She then reached out and patted his shoulder. "There's no one I'd rather trust Savannah with than you, Don."

"Thanks for the compliment," he tossed over his shoulder as he strode away towards the stairs. As he went towards the roof, he could hear rain pattering against the building. Guess that forecast of showers heading New York's way was finally here. He got to the top, and pushed open the door. The smell of rain hit him instantly and he momentarily wished for an umbrella. He edged out, quickly searching the accumulated chairs for Savannah, although knowing that he would find her in much the same position as the night she had told him about James and Amanda. Don pressed a hand to his forehead, knowing that he could possibly witness the pure melancholy of Savannah's tears and grief once more. He slowly entered the garden.

To his surprise, Savannah was on the patch of grass, sitting with her head on her knees but she looked fairly calm. That was, until he got closer and he could see her shoulders shaking every once and a while. From cold or sadness, Flack couldn't tell. Nevertheless, he prepared himself to comfort her. He knelt in front of her and took her cold hands in his own, murmuring, "You know, there are easier ways to take a shower."

"Not helping," she mumbled as she raised her head just enough to look at him through the damp strands clinging to her face.

Don grimaced. "Sorry. Just tried to make you feel better."

Savannah shrugged and looked away, her eyes red and exhausted from crying. She was silent, not actively sobbing, but obviously thinking about the past tragic events. Don huffed, sensing her dilemma. "Look, you were doing really well before, but I don't expect you to be over your experiences in one day. All this shit has come up again and just damaged what progress you made in healing. Now am I right or am I right?"

"Don…they died because of me," Savannah whispered harshly, her outburst stunning the blue eyed man warming her hands.

"How can you even think that? You didn't pull the trigger," pointed out Don disbelievingly. "It was all Wallace."

"But they knew me and that got them killed," she said, yanking her hands away, curling up, ashamed.

"I've seen and heard people get killed for less," replied Don stubbornly. He wasn't going to let Savannah beat herself up about what had happened. What's done was done. He learned that lesson the hard way, and he wasn't about to let Savannah do the same. "You and I can't control what other people will do. If they're determined enough, people will kill each other."

"Don-"

"You listen to me good Savannah Cormier," he enunciated fiercely, leaning forward and grabbing her shoulders. "You _cannot_ feel any guilt for their deaths. You can't. It's not fair on your emotional health for one thing, and if you let him get to you like this, you're letting him win. You're letting him undo all your hard work. You're a smart woman babe. You can't let his poison destroy you."

Savannah just shook her head, shuddering from the rain.

Don switched tactics and gathered her up, putting her onto his lap again. They were getting dirty from the rain slicking the dirt into mud, but it was cleansing, pure, to feel the elements touch them in such a way. "I told you in that hospital. You don't have to be strong in front of me. You're as human as I am. Why do you keep running?" he asked gently.

The brunette just sniffled and pressed her face to his neck. She knew she had to explain it properly. "I've never had anyone care so much for me. Not to share my burdens but to completely take it away, and it scares me a little," she murmured. "I've been everyone's confidant, but I'm used to shouldering my own problems on my own."

"And you admitted yourself you have me. Why come out here and threaten yourself with a cold if you feel you can trust me?"

"Habit," Savannah replied bluntly. "I always feel better when I'm close to nature."

"Time to make some new habits. Including getting rid of that guilt," Don said determinedly, frowning as the rain began to pour harder. He got up, Savannah in his arms. "And don't feel guilty about me having to carry you down the stairs now. We'll get your crutches in the morning, okay."

"Fine," she mumbled.

"Hey, hey," he said comfortingly. "We're going to be fine. You'll see, I'll be right."

* * *

**A/N: A bit of a yo-yo chapter in regards to emotions, true, but Savannah (as strong as she is) needs more time than a day to really get over it, even if she is trying. Anyway, I hoped you found the interactions fitting for the characters. I really value anyone's input. Also, I won't be able to put up the next chapter tomorrow as I have an exam.**

**On another note: The products Stella and Lindsay got for Savannah are from an Australian company I get my shower gel from. It's amazing. **


	31. Parents

**A/N: I'm proud to present this chapter to you after 2 long exams today. Just one more tomorrow and then I'm DONE! Anyway, thank you so much to everyone that reviewed and favourite/followed. Smuffly, Kayla, noaccounter, Leslie Emm, SomebodyWhoCares, and iagrl1223 you guys are freaking awesome. Just sayin' ;D This one is definitely a change of pace. But it needed to be done *shrug***

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 30 – (Meet the) Parents **

* * *

_Can't stop this thing we started  
You gotta know it's right  
Can't stop this course we've plotted  
This thing called love we got it_

**Bryan Adams – Can't Stop This Thing We Started**

* * *

Over the course of the following week, the pair found themselves adjusting to their constant presence with each other quite well. The only things they would debate about was the volume of the TV when Don wanted to watch one of his games and about who was doing what chore. Somehow – he claimed he didn't touch the remote – the volume would rise until Savannah, reading in her room, would yell for the TV to be put on low and Don would claim it wasn't loud enough. And with the chores, Don would insist he would do them only for Savannah to stubbornly assert that he damn near tore himself up chasing criminals each day and that he didn't need to be doing menial jobs she could manage, even if they took longer because of her ankle. Like she had warned him, Savannah went back to the cafe after two days of doing nothing but reading and relaxing at home. Her customers and staff were overjoyed and some of her energy was able to be expended – it made her less likely to be grumpy about her lack of usual mobility.

Flack, of course, got back into the swing of things as a detective, but he had a new problem. Everyone at the precinct was constantly asking after Savannah and how she was. It got to the point where one morning he brought Savannah in, plonked her down at his desk and barked at everyone, "Here she is, satisfy your curiosity."

Needless to say, the brunette got inundated with well wishes and cheers.

A big bonus to the fact Don was living with her was that Savannah didn't have any nightmares. It was like his presence next to her in bed kept the painful memories at bay. She would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling unsettled, like a nightmare was about to begin, but just the sight of her lover peaceful in sleep was enough to send her back to her own.

When they were feeling particularly vulnerable and affectionate, they would talk a little more about the kidnapping and about their fears, and their emotions surrounding it. If their bond had been strong before, it was even more so now.

Now Don was driving into Queens, looking sharp in his smart casual dress, Savannah beside him in pretty black jeans and a purple blouse, the necklace he had given her sparkling in the glow of the passing streetlights. "I hate it when you drive me places and don't tell me," she complained.

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise," the blue eyed man replied, having heard this three times already.

"There are good surprises, like the CSI team and the party, and then there are bad surprises, like when I find a spider hiding behind the sugar bowl."

"Your scream was pretty funny. You went so high I don't think even dogs could hear it," Flack ribbed her playfully.

"I can't wait until you find something gross and you scream," said Savannah, pouting at the reminder of this morning's debacle where the sugar had gone _everywhere _after glimpsing a spider behind it. On the floor, all over her clothes, her skin. Although Don's method of kissing the sugar off her neck 'to make it all better' was almost worth the scare.

"I've already seen the conditions the cart vendors keep their carts in and I've seen Lindsay eat a crumbed tarantula and _enjoy_ it. Not much can faze me anymore babe."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Don't make it one. I find myself losing to you more often than not," replied Don, cringing at the thought of what diabolical thing his partner would do to prove her point. "I will give you a clue. The people you are going to meet don't care about the fact you have a cast on your ankle and will welcome you with open arms."

"That could be a lot of people Don," pointed out Savannah, her mind whirling at a thousand miles an hour to figure out where Don was taking her.

"Yep."

"You are insufferable."

"You love me that way."

"Yes…yes I do, sugar," Savannah replied tenderly, changing tone and leaning over to press her lips to his cheek. "So you should tell me where we're going."

Don had to force himself not to give in. His girlfriend could be persistent. "Why? We're almost there."

Savannah quickly glued herself to the passenger window, scouring the view outside. It looked like a nice suburb, neat, tidy homes with little front gardens. Where families were raised. She could see people having dinner through their transparent curtains, see the glow from televisions. Her suspicions were raised higher when the car glided into a cul-de-sac, going to the top of it where a white clapboard double storey house stood, proud and well kept. As Don parked, Savannah noticed that next to the doorbell was a familiar symbol. It looked like the NYPD patch.

She turned to him, mouth open. "We're at your parents house?" she asked, nervousness creeping into her voice.

Don smirked sheepishly. "Surprise."

"And you didn't think it'd be a good idea to warn me?" Savannah went on incredulously.

"Because I knew you were going to freak out, possibly change your outfit ten times, try and bake a cake for them, and think that you wouldn't be enough to impress them," Don reasoned with her, making valid points – and Savannah knew it. She frowned at him, huffing as she got out of the car, banging her crutches on the ground to show her irritation.

"I'm glad that my bruises could be covered by make up at least," she grumbled.

"You could be purple all over and they would still like you."

"How can you be so sure Don?" Savannah demanded softly, glancing at the house, slightly intimidated by it.

Don came around, locking his car and placing his hands on her shoulders, looking her dead in the eyes. "I'm sure because your heart is what shines through. What draws me to you will draw them to you. They'll like you because we care about each other and they'll see that," he replied softly, before pressing a quick peck on her lips. "I wanted to hold off on telling you because I knew you've never met someone's parents officially. I didn't want to make you worry when there is nothing to worry about."

Sighing, the brunette conceded, "Okay. But if this goes pear-shaped-"

"I know, I'm probably not going to get any for a year."

"Actually, no, I wouldn't do that to you, but I was going to deny you cheesecake for a few months," smirked Savannah, liking how her unpredictability kept him on his toes.

"I can deal with that," replied Don, faking the movement to wipe sweat off his brow, making Savannah chuckle at his goofiness. They went up to the front door, Don looking fondly at the obvious NYPD insignia and touching it before knocking.

To their surprise, Sam was the one to open the door, a can of Coke in her hand and smile on her face. "Hey lovebirds. Was wondering how long you were going to stay out there."

"He didn't tell me we were visiting your parents," said Savannah, throwing an accusing look at Don, who attempted to look innocent.

"I warned you he would do it soon," Sam grinned, stepping back and calling out into the house, "Mom, Dad! Donnie and Savannah are here!"

A tall, blue eyed man came out of the living room, an easy smile on his noble features. The elder Flack looked like had aged well, no beer gut in sight but wrinkles denoting both laugh and frown lines, a long healed scar across the bridge of his nose told the only obvious indication of the hard life of a cop he had led. "Nice to see you both," he boomed, holding out his hand for Savannah to shake. "Donald Flack Sr. It's nice that Don's brought a good girl home."

"Nice to meet you too sir," she replied warmly, taking his hand.

"You can call me Donald – just so no one gets confused," Flack senior winked, turning to his son and briefly embracing him. "Nice to see you too, son."

"Hey dad," Don replied, smiling at being back at his childhood home. Not much had changed. "Where's mom?"

"Kitchen," Donald and Sam chorused, leading them on.

Don recognised the smell instantly as they went into the kitchen/dining area. He licked his lips as he saw the side of corned beef on the kitchen counter as his mother lovingly tended to the creamy parsley sauce. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Savannah perked up, her love of cooking making her curious.

"Olivia, the kids are here," Donald announced as they walked in.

Olivia Flack turned, saw her son holding Savannah's hand, and smiled welcomingly. "Oh my dear, at last we can meet you. Call me Olivia. Donnie's been telling us all about you." She put down her spoon and rushed towards them, gathering both Savannah and Don in a massive hug. Anna noted the similarities between Don and his mother – the ebony hair, the bone structure of the nose and chin, and their smiles. She smiled back, instantly taken in by the mother's warmth exuding from the shorter, slightly plump woman.

"I'm glad to meet you both," Savannah enthused.

"Well he's kept you pretty hidden. Wouldn't even let us come and visit your cafe to see what you looked like," Olivia said, going back to the stove.

"Mom," Don muttered embarrassingly.

"Oh don't act like you didn't. You're so secretive at times darling," Olivia blathered on, much to the amusement of everyone else but her son.

Savannah hobbled forward, peeking curiously into the sauce pot. "Do you mind if I watch?" she asked quietly.

"Not at all dear! I wouldn't expect less from a culinary whiz like you – that's what Donnie's been telling me, that you're a superb cook. And I must warn you, you will not be permitted to raise even so much as a finger tonight. You are our guest," the Flack matriarch emphasised. She patted Anna's hand and shuffled to the side, telling her all about how to make the sauce.

Watching, Don remarked to his dad, "She's got the photo albums all ready and raring to go after dinner, hasn't she?"

"Yes," his father replied, smirking.

"I'm screwed."

Donald chuckled deeply, slapping his son on the back. "I think your mother has been just a wee bit excited."

"I think excited is an understatement," Sam piped up, sipping her cola casually. "She dusted everything today. And I mean, _everything_. Even the ceiling."

Don sighed, but a smile tipped the corners of his mouth as he watched his mother and girlfriend discuss the importance of cornflour in certain sauces. He was right. Savannah had nothing to worry about. His father was won over by her smile, and his mother was won over by her willingness to participate. He was tempted to take a picture of Savannah and his mom talking like old friends over the stove, both happy. _Anna_ was happy.

Soon, the Flack family and Savannah were at the table, having a lively discussion over the corned beef, peas, and carrots. Olivia and Sam told about Don's scrapes with his brother Michael, who lived in Jersey and hadn't been able to make it tonight. She nearly snorted peas out her nose in laughter when Flack's mother told her about the time Don and his brother had been having a lightsaber duel with broomsticks. Mike had accidentally hit Don so hard he tumbled out of the window, only to be given a wedgie by the pine tree which had hooked onto the waistband of his Star Wars boxers. Don's ears reddened as his family laughed in remembrance, muttering something about mothers being put on the earth to embarrass their sons.

Donald asked Savannah about her childhood. Savannah told them all about her father being a cop in New Orleans, about his death and the move to Hampton. She described her youth as 'full of love' from her mother, telling them how her love for cooking began. When asked by Olivia about her mother, the grey-green eyed woman hesitated before deciding to be open with the Flacks. They had treated her so warmly and openly that she felt a kinship with them.

"My mother died from lung cancer when I was 22," Savannah confessed. "I didn't know until the day she died that she had it. She hid it very well."

"Oh you poor dear," Olivia murmured in sympathy.

"So that's what made you…that's what you talked about that day I came to the cafe with Don," Sam realised.

"Yes."

Sam's face showed healthy admiration. "Wow, that's some tough shit."

"Language, Samantha," Donald reprimanded.

Savannah snickered, "Oh, I'm not worried about that. I got worse language from Wallace when he captured me."

"Still, there are proper manners at my dinner table," the elder Flack said pointedly, looking at his children. Savannah nodded, not wanting to look like she was trying to undermine him. Dinner wound down quickly after that. Olivia told Sam to clear up, grasping Savannah's hand and pulling her towards the living room. The taller brunette looked back at Don as if asking for help, but he merely smiled and gave her a thumbs up in encouragement.

"You are no help," she shot back at him, making he and his father laugh.

Donald Sr. then turned to his son and gestured to the back porch. Both men grabbed a beer as they went out the back, settling in the seats they had done since Don was six. The elder man took his rocking chair while the younger took a stool, leaning up against the wooden support post. Taking a swig of his beer, Donald remarked, "That's a fine girl you've got Donnie."

"That she is," Don agreed, copying his father's actions. His expression turned affectionate, his thoughts with the curly haired brunette probably being shown heaps of embarrassing photos by his mom. "I never thought I'd find anyone I'd be with again."

"You've found a real corker. She's got some real moxie in her if she can face all these bad things in her life and still come out on top."

"And there's more to it than the kidnapping," the younger man revealed quietly, his whole expression impressing on his father to keep it secret. When his dad nodded, Don went on, "The man she was kidnapped happened to be a boyfriend from some years back. He abused her. And then a bit over a year ago, he killed her two best friends which caused her to move here and set up her place."

Donald absorbed this and then nodded slowly, a gleam in his eye that told Don he found something amusing. "No wonder you two are on such an even keel." He seemed to ponder something and then asked "She is so obvious…I'd say radiant in her emotions – has she always been like that? It's unusual."

"Always with the positive emotions," affirmed Don.

"Well good for you, lad. Just how serious are you about her?"

"Dad-"

"I'm just saying that she is welcome to our family if this is definitely going to be permanent. As I said, she's a nice girl. You have no arguments or disapproval from me," Donald assured with a knowing smile as he saw his son's ears turn red.

"At the moment, we're just very committed to each other. We're not labelling it apart from being boyfriend and girlfriend," Don responded with a note of warning to drop it.

The older Flack saw right through this due to his years of wisdom. "You may not want to label it son, but I can see it in that girl's eyes. Has she told you she loves you?"

Sighing and looking away, knowing he would fight a losing battle if he kept tight lipped, the younger man replied, "Yeah. She told me, but more than words, she tells me in her actions every day."

"Hmm. And I'm guessing you have made no such admission?"

"No, dad, and Savannah hasn't pressured me about it. Unlike a certain father I know," Don retorted sarcastically.

"Ease up. I'm not telling you how to act on how you feel – only you can know when to act on something. I'm just thinking what a remarkable woman your Anna is. Women like that don't come along every day. I can tell…she doesn't have a mean bone in her body and there's nothing fake about her. Don't let her go Donnie. Not when she's responsible for this good change in you," Donald explained softly.

Don met his father's eyes, a carbon copy of his own, and saw all he was trying to convey. "I won't," he promised.

* * *

Meanwhile in the lounge room, Savannah was crying.

From tears of laughter.

Olivia flicked through page after page of Don as a kid, and while some of them were cute and normal, a great many showed a cheeky boy who happened to get into things he didn't mean to ever since he was a toddler. Like dropping the phone in the toilet, getting his head stuck in the railings of the stairs, and getting coated in mud with a big smile on his face. There was pictures of him in Halloween costumes – more often than not they were either superheroes or a police outfit. One particularly adorable one was of Donald holding a Don who was no older than three, both in police outfits.

"Oh wow," Savannah whispered, her usual bright, beaming smile in full view. "He was _cute_."

"He had a very awkward teenage stage dear. Did you ever see pictures of him with long hair?"

"I heard about it, never seen it. Show me!" pleaded the younger woman gleefully, Olivia obliging her and turning the heavy tome to the back where it showed a seventeen year old Flack, grinning in spite of the pimples decorating his nose, his hair framing his face and ending at his chin.

The visual sent both women into uproarious laughter.

"Oh my gosh! Who was he channelling?"

"I don't know, but I always despaired I would never get him to cut it short again. He looks much more handsome with the shorter hair, just like his father," Olivia said, closing the album and setting it on the couch next to her. While Savannah wiped away the tears of mirth, the older woman gently took her hands and tipped her head up so they were meeting each other's eyes, "Now dear, I hope you don't mind if I ask you some questions that might be a bit sensitive. I am a bit nosy."

"No, go ahead," granted Savannah, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

"I don't know if you and Donnie have talked about this – after all, you have only been together for around four months, correct dear?"

"Yes, but known each other for over nine months," answered the curly haired woman.

Olivia made a noise of consideration. "What are your views on relationships?"

"When I'm in one, I'm committed all the way unless there's a break-up. I'm very committed to Don," Savannah replied easily. She realised where this was going to head and had no reservations about it.

"Good. Some girls when Don was younger, oh! I could tell they were after him like a party favour and he was looking for the same thing," Olivia gossiped, over-sharing in a way most mothers do. "He went through his difficult stage but he came through. What do you think of family? That is, our family on first impression?" Seeing the younger woman's puzzled look, she clarified, "I only ask because Michael's first girlfriend was lovely at first, but she never really wanted us around after the first meeting."

"Well that's stupid," Savannah said bluntly. "I think it's wrong to be with someone and be selfish with them. Your lover doesn't belong to you like that. In meeting you all, I can't imagine telling Don that we shouldn't come over or socialise with you. That'd be unrealistic for one thing, and cruel for another. Family is a support network, and it seems like he has a very good one."

Olivia's expression seemed to approve of Savannah even more, for her smile softened and she went right for the question she had been dying to ask since the conversation began. "Do you think you will ever have children?"

Savannah paused. She hadn't really thought about it, but she did love children. Callum Brent (he had finally gotten rid of Swicky) was a prime example, as was her love for Lucy Messer. Having a kid with Don if they ever got to that stage? "Like you said, we haven't discussed it. We've had so much grief and other problems on our minds that it's the furthest thing. And, I also think it's a bit early to be thinking about that. But if we ever evolved to that point in our relationship, I wouldn't be opposed to it. It would only be natural."

"Good. I think he would be an excellent father, don't you?"

Blushing, she mumbled, "Yes."

Sensing the unease, Olivia patted her hand. "All in good time dear, don't take this as pressuring. I do love my grandson Stephen but he's the only one and I rarely see him because Michael lives in Jersey. And the house feels so empty without the kids around. I do, of course, have my part time job as a kindergarten teacher but it's not the same. But no pressure you see. This is all just curiosity of a mother," she assured. "Although I must ask you, and this is something I think you really do need to consider…what happens if Don never comes back? If he is killed on the job one day? It is the reality of being a partner of a detective and was one of my own fears."

Savannah could tell from the phrasing of the question and the friendly tone in which the question was asked that Olivia was looking out for both their interests. "I won't abandon our relationship just because his job is dangerous if that's what you are asking."

"It is," replied the older woman, nodding in agreement. "But what if that happens? What would you do?"

Savannah considered this, turning over each of her thoughts carefully. She had thought about it, and thought about it deeply. She loved a man in a dangerous job. There was every possibility that a day would come where another detective would come to her door and tell her news that would rip her heart out of her chest and drop kick it around the room. But in her opinion, the risk was worth the reward. As open and as honest as she could, preparing to bare it all, Anna replied softly, "I'm willing to have my heart broken if something happened to Don. It's better to meet him, know him, and love him in every way I can even if it's only for a short time because he's made a difference in my life and I'm sure I've made a difference in his. He makes me happy. He's the key to my secret heart. He's my best friend and the best man I've ever known. I'd rather love him for all those reasons because you have to work at it. Love isn't about being easy. I'd rather love him than to leave him alone and struggling, even if it means I may end up alone and struggling."

Olivia's mouth parted at the rawness of the statement pouring forth from Savannah's lips. Tears welled up. This was emotion in its purest form.

Savannah blushed again after her speech, but felt proud of herself. It was the truth, as precious as a raw diamond, as precious as the love she held for Don. She then found herself embraced strongly by the Flack matriarch, the smell of parsley and gardenia filling her senses. "Oh my goodness dear. I haven't heard anything so beautiful in real life apart from Donald proposing to me," Olivia gushed warmly.

Shrugging in an attempt to be modest, the younger woman simply said, "It's what I feel."

"And what a big heart you have. My Donnie is blessed to have you in his life. You are welcome here anytime you wish Anna."

Knowing that Olivia meant it, Savannah murmured, "Thank you so much Olivia."

The Flack men chose that moment to wander in, stopping at seeing both women emotional. Father and son looked at each other, shrugged, and continued in. "Hate to break up this bonding session, but we gotta get going Anna, it's late."

Savannah pulled away, nodding up at her partner and giving Olivia one last hug. "I'll see you soon Olivia."

"I'll be sure to visit your cafe dear."

Donald gathered the crutches and held them out for the younger woman. As she righted herself, he reached out and squeezed her shoulders in a fatherly way. "Glad you're here, lass. I look forward to more visits in the future."

"Me too. I have got to learn how to make that corned beef," Savannah joked easily, making the rest of the Flacks smile.

The couple then said goodbye to Sam and Don promised his parents he would call them soon. The couple paused by the car to allow Savannah to store the crutches. Don took her hand, halting her progress into the car. "Am I forgiven for not telling?"

"Yes you are. You, Don Flack, were the most adorable child. Your mom…she was so nice."

Don sighed. "Mom loves showing photos of us kids all the time. She showed you all of them?"

"Oh yes even the ones with the long hair," grinned Savannah, bringing a finger up to trace along his jaw. "But I like you as you are. Speaking of as you are…" she trailed off, her eyes slowly showing more green in them under the glow of the full moon, "I believe you mentioned something of your inventiveness when it comes to manoeuvring around casts."

Desire sparked in Don's eyes. "I did."

"Care to put your money where your mouth is, so to speak?" she questioned teasingly, tilting her head up to press a kiss to his lips.

"More than ready," he replied, accepting the challenge – and looking forward to it.

* * *

"What were you and Savannah so emotional about before?"

Olivia Flack looked up from where she was folding some clothes, smiling at her husband in the doorway. "Oh, nothing."

Donald raised an eyebrow and murmured, "You, my dear, are the most terrible liar."

Olivia brushed her greying hair out of her eyes and looked up at him as he came towards her. "I asked her the usual 'mom' questions. How she feels about relationships, children, about Donnie's detective job. I didn't expect one of her answers. She's quite the young lady for our boy," she replied.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Oh you nosy man," Olivia clucked, "She said that she would be dedicated to him no matter what even if it means she is alone if he gets hurt in the line of duty."

The retired detective made a noise of consideration and placed a weathered hand on his wife's shoulder. "Sounds like she's a stubborn one. Not unlike another lady I know who professed to love a schmuck in a dangerous job," he said. "Although I think she's less reserved and freer to expression than you ever were. You took a year to tell me that you loved me."

"It was worth the wait though."

"True," replied Donald. "So…what are the bets on this one?"

Olivia hummed in thought, frowning in contemplation. "I think they will be engaged by next December and married less than half a year after that," she finally decided.

"You honestly think that quick?"

"Donald, darling, it's obvious they're smitten with each other…what's your contribution?"

"I like that we're not disputing that we think she's a good fit for him," Donald said. Like his wife, he thought about it. "I'm betting that they're going to move in by next summer, and then Don's going to wait a year before popping the question, and then another year after that before they are married. Wager?"

"Two hundred and dinner at the Savoy," Olivia replied with a touch of smugness.

Donald raised an eyebrow again. "That certain huh?"

"Darling…I won with Michael's marriage and with your sister Tina running off with a young fireman. I'm very sure of myself."

"Deal's on then," he said, sticking out a hand. His wife took it, sealing the bet.

* * *

**A/N: If I just told someone about how much I loved my partner, I think I'd want to jump said partner to further express it too, just like Anna :D**

**I'm rather proud of this. I think it's really hard to do a chapter so full of emotion and keep it even. It's full of fluff, and at the time of writing, I needed something fluffy. I hope it wasn't overkill though, I just wanted it all out there before I write the final two chapters. Please let me know how you felt about this chapter, as I was very aware I could have, so to speak, 'jumped the shark.' **


	32. Savannah's Birthday

**a/n: MY EXAMS ARE DONE! Now I can begin the sequel to this fic. The epilogue is finished and will be posted tomorrow. Also, thanks you so much to those who reviewed. 6 reviews is amazing! Smuffly, Kayla, noaccounter, SomebodyWhoCares, Leslie Emm, and Forest Angel. I can't wait to see your responses to this one. Fluff galore again. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing and implied sex.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 31 – Savannah's Birthday**

* * *

_I found a man I can trust  
And boy, I believe in us  
I am terrified to love for the first time  
Can you see that I'm bound in chains?  
I've finally found my way _

**Christina Aguilera – Bound to You**

* * *

It was the 24th of October and Savannah's 30th birthday. To her never ending gratitude, the doctors had taken her ankle cast off a week early because her ankle had healed so well – but they warned her not to be too strenuous with it for at least a month and to do strengthening exercises every day. When the cast had come off, Don had moved back to his own apartment. He hadn't argued, knowing that living together – while for that fortnight had been such a great experience – would be rushing things.

Now though, as he and Savannah entered Melvoy's, Savannah in a silver cocktail dress that made her body look like a pin-up model, he was grinning. They and the CSI team, along with Jacks and Aunt Emilie, had just come from dinner at the best Italian restaurant in Little Italy, Suor Cibo, and now they were in for a night of dancing and fun. They were stuffed full of the cake that Emilie and Jacks had made for Savannah and the mood in the group was lively and cheerful.

"Okay birthday girl, Pina Colada?"

"You bet," Savannah replied, thanking the bartender as the drink was made and given to her. She then turned and raised her glass. "To me turning the big 3-0!" she called out.

Her friends all raised their glasses, cheering.

And then in a classic twist of irony, the song '_Raise your glass_' by P!nk played, making those who recognised it laugh.

Savannah was under Flack's arm, leaning her head back on his shoulder as they talked with their friends. They were both in a good place and were content just to observe and chat while some went onto the dance floor. Danny and Lindsay were having a blast, and Adam was doing some kind of weird break dancing move that made Mac and Stella look at him oddly, and Sid was making a request for a guy called Yngwie Malmsteen to be played after that.

After half an hour, Savannah got a glint in her eye that meant she was planning something and slipped from her lover's embrace to talk to the bartender who controlled the music. She smiled at him, playing with the ends of her hair as she asked her question. The guy nodded, pointing to a speaker and giving her a thumbs up. She then thanked him and returned to the group.

"Just what are you planning?" Don asked her when she returned, shrewdly noting that she tried to look as guileless as possible. She shrugged and then engaged Sheldon in conversation about the difference between DNA and RNA, asking him to explain it to her in easy to understand terms – effectively making sure that Flack wouldn't try and probe more information out of her.

After a little while, the bartender picked up a microphone and walked onto a tiny stage area in front of the dance floor. The music faded and he announced, "Good evening everyone. Tonight, someone has made a very special request, so we're going to get some live music tonight!"

The bar cheered.

And Don had a hunch just who was going to go up there.

"Savannah Cormier, come on down!"

Savannah turned and winked at him, strutting up to the stage proudly while the CSI's all clapped and cheered for her. She took the microphone and looked out, showing no hesitation whatsoever. "Hi. Well…I guess you're all wondering why I'm up here, about to sing." She paused gauging the mood in the bar. "The answer is…it's my birthday."

There was the obligatory clapping.

"You see," she went on confidently, "as it's my birthday, I'm going to do something crazy. It's going to be horribly cliché and so cheesy it should belong on a pizza, but I'm going to do it anyway. And I don't care if you happen to boo me off. I'm going to sing a song about love. I'm dedicating it to the man that I love the most in my life." She then smirked at the gobsmacked look on Flack's face. "Definitely cheesy, but hey…it's my b'day. I'm no Alicia Keys, but I'm going to take a crack at it."

Mac sidled up to Don then. "I'm guessing you didn't know about this?" he observed with a little grin at Don's stunned face.

"Hell no, no indication that she was going to sing," Flack replied, leaning against the bar and watching raptly as music began to play. Everyone else looked on in curiosity as Savannah swayed in time to the music, closing her eyes. Flack had never heard this song before, but Stella obviously had as she suddenly grinned at him. "Oh she's bringing out the big guns. Kudos to her for confidence."

And then with a soulful, clear tone, Savannah began to sing.

"_I just want you close  
Where you can stay forever  
You can be sure  
That it will only get better"_

"Whoa...she can sing really good," Adam remarked to the group.

Don agreed, recalling the first time he and Anna had made love, the song and dance she had done beforehand. It sent the good kind of chills down his spine as she sung, the words telling her truth about how she felt.

_"You and me together_  
_Through the days and nights_  
_I don't worry 'cause_  
_Everything's going to be alright_  
_People keep talking they can say what they like_  
_But all I know is everything's going to be alright"_

Everyone in the bar was captured by her magnetism, by her rawness and sweet, soulful vocals. Every head was turned towards the stage, the woman performing unaware of the awe she was inspiring. Don looked on proudly as she displayed her gift loud and strong for everyone to see.

_No one, no one, no one_  
_Can get in the way of what I'm feeling_  
_No one, no one, no one_  
_Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you_  
_Can get in the way of what I feel for you_

"You are one lucky man," Sid murmured to Don, clapping a hand on his back. "She's got an incredible voice."

The detective just nodded, transfixed by the performance that Savannah was putting on. Although they were in the middle of a crowded bar, he felt like she was singing to him right in his ear, the message from her to him. He could almost feel her reaching out to him across the room, her song wrapping around him like a tender embrace. His own emotions bubbled up, threatening to spill, but he kept it in. it would be his final gift to her later.

_When the rain is pouring down_  
_And my heart is hurting_  
_You will always be around_  
_This I know for certain_

Savannah finally opened her eyes, gratified to see that all eyes were on hers, and that some were either swaying or dancing. She then sought out the eyes of the one person who mattered the most. Don's. She grinned at him and got a matching grin back.

_You and me together_  
_Through the days and nights_  
_I don't worry 'cause_  
_Everything's going to be alright_  
_People keep talking they can say what they like_  
_But all I know is everything's going to be alright_

_No one, no one, no one_  
_Can get in the way of what I'm feeling_  
_No one, no one, no one_  
_Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you_  
_Can get in the way of what I feel_

_I know some people search the world_  
_To find something like what we have_  
_I know people will try, try to divide, something so real_  
_So till the end of time I'm telling you there ain't no one_

Rowdy cheers went up as she nailed the hard note with all the power within her. There were calls of 'sing it girl!' as she continued.

_No one, no one  
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling  
No one, no one, no one  
Can get in the way of what I feel for you_

Savannah finished and held up the microphone, smiling brightly at her accomplishment. A roaring cheer went up from her audience, some calling for more. She whispered, "Thank you," into the mic, placing it down on the speaker before sauntering through the encouragement of the crowd and to Don, her heart racing as she was drawn by the deepness in his eyes. She came up to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Well?"

"You were right."

"About what?"

Flack smirked. "That was really cheesy."

Savannah laughed as he hugged her, and she knew that he had loved her impromptu performance, as baring as it was.

"Damn girl, where've you been hiding that voice?" Sheldon asked in awe. "You sound like you could sing with my friend Laverna and her band."

"You are truly talented," complimented Mac.

"And here we thought that you could only sing lullabies," Lindsay quipped, referencing the times Savannah had babysat Lucy. Danny nodded, his arms around his wife, the song having affected the both of them as well. It was such a powerful song that they got caught up in it too.

"I know you said you were no Alicia Keys, but you did that song some serious justice Anna," Stella added, taking her friend from Don's arms and squeezing her tightly.

"I think I only did it justice because I only sang from the heart," Savannah theorised, darting a glance back to the tall detective. He mentioned with his head towards the dance floor. She nodded, and as a group they ended up rocking out for the rest of the night, full of happiness, regardless of what their jobs and futures may bring.

* * *

It was still that night, much, much later, when Savannah and Don had come back from the bar to his apartment, both a little tipsy and extremely pleasant and pleased. Kissing had gotten hot and heavy quickly, and they shed a trail of clothes to Don's bedroom, with the tall man promising her a very worthy birthday present. It ended up with the brunette screaming in pleasure with her lover's head between her legs. The main event was just as good, both rolling around in his bed, laughing when they wrestled for the upper hand and dissolving into heavy moans and pants.

It was nearing 3am when they were finally satiated enough to rest, sprawled out over the sheets with the fan whirling full tilt.

As usual after sex, both had large and silly smiles on their faces, proving that the sexual spark was there and stronger than ever.

"Your confidence is so very sexy," Don complimented warmly, turning to face the profile of Savannah, silhouetted by the moonlight coming through the gaps in the blinds. She stretched languidly, making his attention travel from her chest to her face, content and satisfied – satisfaction he had caused. He reached out, feeling they were cooled down enough for touch, and pulled her to him. "Seeing you on that stage was a major turn on."

"And the song?"

"Very powerful. I loved watching you up there," he said into her neck, relishing in her scent and the feel of her.

"I wanted to express how I felt. I am a bit of a romantic dreamer after all," Savannah murmured, bringing her hand up to card through her partner's hair soothingly, affectionate. He moaned at the action, the sensations sending pleasant tingles through his body.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"I know, that's why I do it," replied Savannah smugly.

Don felt a tug on his heart then, and realised that he loved her. He really, truly loved her, caught up in the whirlwind of everything that she was. He didn't like to label relationships, and he didn't like to talk about his feelings. But he was in love with the person in bed with him – the woman he was pretty sure was his soulmate. He had thought that about Jess too. He must be one of those lucky few who got more than one chance. Don looked up then, searching her eyes and admiring their colour, pondering the realisation. He didn't want anyone else. He never had wanted anyone else since he met her. And there was this deep, tangible connection between them, more than understanding, more than love. There was an equality between them unfettered of worry about their reputations or what others would think of their relationship.

This was it.

The words stuck in his mouth, as if mocking him for being such a sap. He was different around Savannah. Freer to feel, reveal the more vulnerable parts to him. He should let the words flow.

"Anna."

"Yes sugar?"

"If I told you that I loved you…what would you do?"

Silence met his question as her eyes widened and her breath hitched. A beautiful smile then graced her lips. "If I could jump for joy, I would, but you worked me over pretty good," she teased.

They both chuckled and Don rose up, properly gazing into her eyes. "I do love you," he whispered.

"I know," Savannah replied. "You might not like to say the words…but it's there every time you touch me."

"Well…you, Savannah, are the perfect woman for me…and there's no one I'd rather be with," Don hummed, making a sweet parody of the song she had sung earlier. He then sealed the statement with a slow, explorative kiss that expressed their emotions.

They didn't get any sleep for another hour after that.

* * *

**A/N: This, ladies and gents, is a perfect example of my mushy romance loving muse completely taking any idea and cynicism I have and throwing it out of the Crime Lab's 35****th**** floor windows. That being said, I hope you enjoyed the fluff and that you won't have to go to your doctors to get your cavities filled from the sweetness. **

**NEXT CHAP: The epilogue. More fluff galore. Fluff heavy because sequel is…well…more drama packed. **


	33. Epilogue

**A/N: Here we are at the end of a long journey. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I am very proud of it and I'm so humbled and grateful for all the support I've gotten. Smuffly, Kayla, SomebodyWhoCares, noaccounter, and Leslie Emm, your comments have warmed my heart. I hope you enjoy the ending of this part in Don and Savannah's lives. **

**Characters: **Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.

**Set: **This is canon up until after episode 6.08 'Cuckoo's Nest.' After that, it's AU.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Mild swearing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.

* * *

**On the Mend – Chapter 31 – Epilogue**

* * *

_And now I can live again  
__I have been chosen to run with the wind  
__I can go higher  
__I know I will soar  
__I'm taller I'm stronger I'm better than before _

**Guy Sebastian – Taller, Stronger, Better**

* * *

"Hey Jess. I know I haven't been by in a month. But we thought that the timing was right for Savannah to come see you."

The graveyard was touched by the glowing fingers of morning light, Don Flack bundled up in a leather jacket and overcoat in deference to the winter snow, his beanie in his hands. He placed the bouquet of begonias on his ex-love's tombstone and reverently traced over the words. He then kissed his fingers and pressed it to her picture, protected from the elements by toughened glass. "I know you've been watching over me. I still miss you, but not as much as I used to, and I know you can understand that because I've found love again."

Don turned back, smiling at Savannah in her purple coat and his Yankees cap, her cheeks flushed from the cold but her eyes sparkling with encouragement. He then looked back, smiling. "She's wonderful. But I have to thank you because you made this guy, a player, actually commit to something and it's been a great set up to what I have with Anna. I've moved on. It's been a hard road but I think I'm better for it."

He lingered just a little more, imagining the savvy Jess smirking at him. Knowing. "I don't know when I'll see you again. I think I might just be a bit busy. I'll always remember you though, and that's a promise, because I know Anna is going to make me stick to it," he concluded and rose, heading back to the spot where his curly haired love stood. "Your turn."

Savannah inclined her head, slowly treading across the crunching snow until she knelt before the elegant white marker. "Hi Jess. I'm Anna. Before I go on, I just wanted you to know that I've been taking good care of him like he's been taking good care of me." She let a few moments of silence go by as she, too, traced over the inscribed words. "I wish I could have met you in person. I think we would have been really good friends if you were still alive, and we would have the best ladies night when you were off from work." Savannah rose and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Jess. I hope wherever you are that you're smiling."

As Savannah walked back to Don who had that special look of affection he reserved just for her. "So, we got the least happy part of the day over. Where to next detective?" she asked with a smile.

"Well," murmured Don, threading his arms around her waist and pressing her up against his chest. "We do have to go visit the Brents to give Callum his present. And then we'll quickly meet with all our friends throughout the day, and then to my parents place for dinner tonight. My brother is going to be there so you'll actually be able to meet him for the first time," outlined the tall man, his eyes on hers.

"And let's not forget my Christmas present to you later."

Don frowned. "You already got me something. I thought that the Xbox was a bit extravagant of you, but who am I to refuse such awesomeness?"

"And like the tickets to see Maroon 5 and the amethyst earrings weren't?" Savannah razzed playfully. She then lifted an eyebrow in that mischievous way of hers. "No sugar…I'm talking about the little Xmas present I happened to find at Victoria's Secret the other day."

Don's breath hitched and his eyes darkened. "You are going to be the death of me woman," he murmured.

"But what a way to go!" she replied, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a passionate kiss to his lips, scorching in comparison to the freezing air. "It's an incentive to keep you nice all through today – just in case you get fed up with the traffic jams and the constant barrage of Christmas carols and the like."

"Good incentive. You know just what to do to keep me sustained," Don murmured, kissing her again. He pulled back and said, "I love you."

"I love you too Don. Now c'mon. We've got a day of Christmas well wishing to get through."

"You are such a slave driver."

"You love it. You're practically a glutton."

Laughing, Don replied, "Yes, yes I am."

And they walked out of the graveyard without a look back.

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**A/N: What did you think? Again, I appreciate any feedback. You have been wonderful over the past few months. The sequel has been plotted and the first chapter has almost been finished. So I'll probably have it out in the next week (with luck!).**

**Thank you all once again :D**


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